


Professor Layton and the Riddle Killings

by ofwyrmsandguns



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: A story of the Professor once again running into random kids and deciding that they're his kids now, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Murder Mystery, Puzzles, There are deaths but there's nothing too graphic about them other than COD, baby katrielle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-08-19 01:42:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20201665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofwyrmsandguns/pseuds/ofwyrmsandguns
Summary: A spate of mysterious murders have London on edge, a clue is left at every crime scene; a puzzle to be solved. The Professor gets asked to help solve these puzzles, but may have signed up for more than he bargained for when he encounters someone else with a disturbing interest in these murders.





	1. A Curious Mystery

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the fan fiction “The Laytons” on fanfiction.net, written by moonbird. That fanfic really did form most of my ideas on young Al.
> 
> There will be puzzles in this fic, unfortunately I'm not actually any good at making puzzles, only solving them. I'll put down how many picarates each puzzle is worth in the notes at the end, so you can keep score.

He hadn't meant to overrun! But by the time he'd finished marking that last lot of assignments, and dealt with all the students wanting 'a quick word' about their work that ended up going on for quite a few, long words, he'd found himself running far over what he'd expected. At least the traffic had died down by the time he was finally in his car, and in the end he was stood outside his front door only half an hour later than he'd promised. He'd hoped to be early.

“Katrielle? Flora? I'm home.” He announced as he entered the hallway, almost immediately engulfed by the two girls arms. Flora had rushed to greet him with Katrielle, 2 years old today, in her arms, and after a good hug was exchanged with Flora, he took Katrielle from her for a proper hug, not crushed between the two of them.

“I thought a gentleman wasn't meant to keep a lady waiting.” Flora scolded. “Your dinner is getting cold, it was served on time.”

“My apologies, my dear. There were a few pressing matters to deal with before I could leave, I did try to get away in time.” Professor tipped his hat at her, carrying Katrielle through to the dining room. There were two empty plates at the table already, plus one full one that may or may not have had some peas stolen from it. Once placed on the floor, Katrielle rushed back to her seat, clambering back on to it.

“Cake!” She yelled excitedly, pointing to the kitchen.

“Has Flora made you a cake?” Professor asked. As a gift from him, Flora had been taking cooking lessons the past few years. She'd improved considerably, or at least enough to make edible dishes, but he wasn't entirely convinced on her baking yet.

“No, I had it made special.” Flora said, a small pout to her words. Katrielle was being taught excellent manners befitting a lady, but she was still a toddler. Last time Flora had baked a cake, half of it ended up in her hair at Kat's disgust. “From the bakers down the road. But we can't eat it until your daddy's finished, alright Kat?”

“Daddy, eat! Cake!” Kat demanded, wiggling about in her seat in excitement. Professor ate at his own speed, ignoring and occasionally disciplining Kat's demands that he speed up. But eventually it was all eaten. Kat squealed in excitement when the professor put his cutlery down. “Cake!”

“Yes, I'll go get it now.” Flora sighed, standing up from her seat. The phone started ringing from the hallway. Kat moaned.

“If it's important Flora, I'm sure they'll ring back later.” the professor assured her. Flora smiled back at him, disappearing into the kitchen. The phone eventually stopped ringing in time for Flora to flick off the lights and return with the cake, with two bright candles sat on top and a big number '2' as well. It was decorated to show one of Katrielle's great loves: food. Fondant burgers and chips and buttercream ketchup made up the decorations on top. Katrielle clapped in glee as it was put down in front of her.

The phone started ringing again, but again, at the professor's signal, they ignored it, singing Happy Birthday to Kat instead, watching her just to say manage to blow out the candles. The phone stopped ringing, but almost immediately started again. Flora stood up in a huff.

“What ever could be so urgent?” She asked, storming out of the room to answer it. the professor picked up the knife and cut a slice of cake for Kat, smiling at her babbling away as he put it in a bowl for her and cut another slice for Flora. From the next room he could hear Flora playing war with whoever it was on the other end of the line. He was glad it wasn't him. He grabbed himself a slice as well.

Flora poked her head around the corner, the phone still in her hand. “Professor, it's Inspector Grosky, he says he needs to speak to you on a private matter.”

“Is it urgent?” The professor asked, spotted Kat's disappointed look.

“Urgent enough to nearly spoil Kat's birthday, apparently.” Flora answered, loud enough for it to be picked up by the phone. The professor stood up and took it from her, moving into the hallway before answering.

“Inspector Grosky? What seems to be the problem?” The professor asked.

“Ah, Layton. Sorry for interrupting your dinner, but you see, we're having a bit of a problem down at the yard. I was hoping you might be willing to come down early tomorrow and have a look, see if you can point us in the right direction.” Grosky's voice was as loud as ever, The professor finding that he had to hold the phone a couple of inches away so as to not be deafened.

“I'm assuming it's a little more than a problem to call me three times, Inspector. Can you tell me anything else?”

“Astute as ever. Have you been reading the news lately?”

“Everyday when possible.”

“So you know about the spate of seemingly random murders happening across the city then. The Riddle killings, the papers are calling it.”

“Inspector, I don't normally-”

“Get involved in murder cases, I know. But the body's been moved and the scene mostly cleaned up now, there's nothing to see but the puzzle left behind. We've been scratching our heads over it the whole day, and you're the best we know.”

The professor considered it carefully. Of what he'd read, the murders seemed to happen to random people, at random places and at random times. There was no telling who could be the next victim, and the city was getting anxious, especially with the third body found this morning. He'd even taken to mentioning it to his students, to ensure they were on high alert. If he could help in any way, surely it was his duty as a gentleman...

“Very well Inspector. I'll be there.”


	2. The Boy In The Rafters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professor heads to the most recent crime scene with the hopes of assissting Scotland Yard, and comes across someone quite interesting.

He'd driven to Scotland Yard early in the morning with Flora, Kat being left under the watchful eye of Rosa for the day with a promise they'd be back soon. Grosky had insisted on driving them to the location himself however, and they soon found themselves in front of an old, wooden warehouse, long abandoned. The police tape was still up, and Grosky lead them inside.

The location of the body was still marked on the floor, and while most of the mess had been cleared up, there remained a browned stain on the wall in the shape of a question mark. Various spikes had been jammed into the wall in random locations.

“Well, this is it Layton. Feel free to look around, just don't touch anything. It hasn't officially been marked as clear yet, any changes could contaminate the whole thing, and get me into serious trouble.”

“Of course, Inspector.” Layton assured him. Other than the massive, double fronted doors, there was only one source of light into the warehouse. A window, high above their heads, shone light through in a circle, the beam stretching out and highlighting the location of the body in the early morning light. The professor examined the rafters more closely-

“Well well, took you long enough to realise, didn't it?” A mocking voice drifted down, a strong cockney accent in a young boy's voice. Grosky pushed forward.

“Oh not you again. Go on, away with you. You're becoming a real problem.” He shouted. The boy seemed unperturbed.

“I'm not interested in talking to anyone too stupid to solve a puzzle this easy, Grosky.” He taunted. The light from the window behind him threw his face into shadow, and The professor couldn't make much out of him. “And what about you? Plain clothes police then?”

“I'm afraid not. I'm Professor Herschel Layton, and you are?” The professor introduced himself.

“Not gonna give myself away that easily.” The voice called back. “That's a puzzle for me to know and for you to solve. Like this one here.” He pointed to the wall behind him. “I hear that the greatest minds in Scotland yard can't solve it.”

“Good thing the Professor isn't part of Scotland Yard then.” Flora replied. The boy blew a raspberry at her.

“Whatever. So then, Professor. Why not try and impress me?”

“He doesn't have to do anything of the sort!” Flora yelled at the boy, gaining only a cackle in response.

“It's quite alright, Flora. I'm quite interested in what he has to say.” The professor assured her. “Have you run into him before then, Grosky?”

“He turned up at the previous crime scene too. And a few other ones unrelated to the case. He's wanted for questioning at the least.” Grosky explained. The boy didn't seem too fussed about it.

“Are you interested in this case then, young detective?” The professor called out.

“'Young detective'? Whatever you say, titfer.” The boy said. “Yeah, I suppose I am. Reckon I can solve it before the peelers at this rate. What about you, Professor?”

“Oh I'm not here to solve the case, just this puzzle. Unless you'd like to take the glory.” The professor offered. The boy laughed.

“Me and glory don't sit right. If you want a scooby, I'll be here. Otherwise, start with a butcher's.” He pointed to the wall behind him. The professor tipped his hat at him and went to examine it. The spikes had been smashed in quite hard, 7 in total, and arranged in a easily recognisable shape.

“Why, it's a constellation, I believe. The big dipper, in fact.” The professor replied.

“What else? But the puzzle doesn't end there, Professor. What's a constellation got to do with someone who's brown bread?”

“What's he saying?” Flora whispered fairly loudly to Grosky beside her. The boy leaned over to glare at her.

“Oh sorry, my dear lady.” He taunted, his voice dripping with a sarcastic, fancy tone. “I wasn't aware I was dealing with someone so stupid.”

“That's quite enough.” The professor said sternly. “Flora is not from London, it's no surprise she's yet to be acquainted with rhyming slang.” The boy just blew another raspberry.

The Big Dipper was such a well known constellation; often visible in the night sky over Stanford. It was no wonder that it might have stumped the police if they lived most of their lives in London, where light pollution halted any sight of the stars. But anyone who liked to wander or learn was always taught an important fact about the Big Dipper.

The professor followed the line from the last star, but no further spiked could be found. “Polaris is missing, I'm assuming that's what I'm meant to see.”

“Polaris? Yeah, if you like the fancy name, I guess.” The boy shrugged. “I like the common name better.”

“The North Star?” The professor asked, the pieces finally sliding into place. “Of course! Inspector, the previous answers to the puzzles, were they also to do with directions?”

“Ehm, no.” Grosky answered, rubbing his chin.

“Yes they were! God, you couldn't even figure that out? There's no way you can solve this case, Grosky.” The boy taunted. “Just cos there's no instructions doesn't mean this puzzle's impossible, and yet they couldn't figure it out. You're useless.”

“Right! I've had quite enough of you, lad. I'm taking you back to the Yard with me.” Grosky demanded, rushing to grab a ladder.

“Stop inspector, you'll contaminate the crime scene.” The boy mocked, before turning back to the Professor. “Let's see who gets to the bottom of this case first, eh Professor? I look forward to butting heads again.” Standing from his perch in the rafters, the boy made a quick exit out the window, followed by an angry, yelling Grosky, who took the front entrance instead, leaving the Professor and Flora alone in the warehouse.

“Well, he was just rude!” Flora moaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puzzle number 001: High stakes (50 picarates)
> 
> Since there's no way to squeeze a northern accent in here I've instead decided that this lad should have a cockney accent, because the Professor Layton series doesn't have enough good, regional, none RP/Estuary characters in it. Except Mystery Room, which is sheer perfection simply because of Lucy, but that's beside the point. 
> 
> Hope I don't mangle the rhyming slang too badly, he won't use it that often, he was simply trying to flex on Flora. When people with posh accents try to complain about my use of accent and dialect, I triple up on it as well. Serves them right. 
> 
> I'm not sure if it's truly a puzzle, but if you figure out who the boy is, thats worth 20 picarates, drop it to 10 though if you read the character tags.


	3. On the Case

Grosky was ultimately unsuccessful in catching the boy, who had disappeared quickly into the city crowds. No-one seemed to pay enough attention to him to give Grosky any clear leads on where he went, and after an hour long fruitless search, he eventually gave up and drove Flora and the Professor back to the yard.

“Sorry about that. I wasn't expecting him being there. He's quite a thorn in our side at the minute.” Grosky apologised as he took them back.

“I've no doubt. Hasn't he any manners?” Flora asked.

“Well if he does, he hasn't shown any yet.” Grosky replied, a small smile on his face. “What do you think, Layton?”

“I think he would be a valuable ally, if someone could convince him to help, rather than leading an investigation for his own interests.” The professor offered. Grosky seemed less than pleased.

“And would that someone be you, then?”

“Oh I didn't mean like that. He knows something, and I think he wants to show it off. If you could convince him to help-”

“I doubt he'll want to, but we'll keep it in mind.” They'd finally reached the yard again, and everyone exited the car. “So the solution to that puzzle was 'North'. I'll double check over the previous puzzles, see what the other solutions were.”

“Actually, Inspector, I must admit. You've piqued my curiosity. Is there any chance-”

“You want to have a go at them yourself? I knew you would. Chelmey's already doing the paperwork to get the information released to you, it should be ready for you now.” Grosky said. “I'll lead you to his office, but then I've got to get back to work.”

“Thank you, inspector.” The professor tipped his hat at him, following him into the police station. As always, there were people milling about, waiting to report crimes or give statements, with a rabble of busy-looking police rushing between them. Grosky just sauntered through, the crowd parting in his wake. Numerous officers waved hello to the Professor.

Chelmey was waiting in his office working on some paperwork when they entered. He raised his head only slightly to acknowledge their presence before continuing on.

“Thank you Grosky, I'm sure I can take it from here.” Chelmey instructed. Grosky said a quick farewell and left. “Well Layton, you trying to show me up again?”

“Goodness, no, Inspector. I'm just interested. If you'd rather I not get involved then-”

“No no, it's quite alright. Puzzles are your area of expertise, after all.” Chelmey put aside his pen and picked up a small file instead, handing it to The professor. “I've written up quick summaries on the actual crimes themselves, I'm sure you don't want all the gruesome details. But if you think I missed anything that could be important, you know where to find me.”

The professor took the file, quickly scanning over it. There were photos of the puzzles left behind, and short descriptions of the scenes themselves, but it was clear that delicate information wasn't included.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Chelmey asked.

“No, but I feel you should know that a small boy was at the crime scene when we arrived. He seemed very interested in the murders too.” The professor explained.

“Oh, was there?” Chelmey asked. He didn't seem too surprised. “Yes, we've had a few reports of him so far. Considering he hasn't actually touched any of the scenes yet, and he's a bugger to catch, he hasn't been on our list of priorities. He certainly wouldn't've been capable of committing the crimes anyhow.”

“Do you know him then?” The professor asked.

“He was very rude.” Flora added.

“Oh he's got a reputation alright. No, I haven't seen him with my own eyes yet, so I can't confirm it exactly, but I do have a few suspects as to who it might be. Regardless, it's best if you don't get involved with him.” Chelmey concluded. “Is that all?”

“Other than the solution to the puzzle being 'North', I think that's it, Inspector.” The professor finished. “It's been a pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise Layton. Stay safe, it's dangerous out there at night at the minute.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No puzzles this chapter, I'm afraid. Just a nice, quick short one, with a quick appearance from the good inspector. He'll turn up again later, don't you worry.
> 
> Oh I should mention, I kept changing between Herschel and the Professor when typing this up, but I fixed it using a quick find and replace. That might have messed some lines up though, if you spot one I missed please do let me know.


	4. Puzzles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professor sets to work solving the two other puzzles left behind so far, while Katrielle serves him 'tea'

Flora had left for her weekend cooking class shortly after lunch, leaving the Professor to spend an afternoon alone with Katrielle. She was hosting a tea party with some of her dolls and teddy bears, although the guest of honour was her dad. He sat on the floor, drinking water out of a little plastic tea cup, passing comments as if he was drinking the finest tea in London. To her credit, Katrielle was pretending to brew the tea as if it was as well.

The professor had been reading over the files, examining the details of the murders themselves first. They were all very straight cut; a knife to the back, excessive bleeding, and the bodies found face down in a pool of their own blood. The locations had varied; a house, a restaurant that had closed for the night, and an abandoned warehouse, and a map had been drawn to show where each victim had been found, a circle drawn to get an idea of where the murderer might live. It was a considerable size, but The professor took some solace in the fact that neither his home nor the university was found within it.

“A beautiful blend as always, Katrielle. Subtle yet sublime, you do know just how I enjoy my tea.” He said aloud, drinking the plain tap water with a smile. Katrielle beamed. “And what do you think, Beanie?”

He'd turned to address the brown beanie dachshund in the seat next to him, the dog's cup of tea filled but undisturbed.

Now there were just the puzzles to go over. He'd had the hint that the answers were all related to directions, but a quick glance told him that none of them had outright said so. He took out the puzzle from the first case, a picture puzzle with only one instruction: “Find the letter”. The pictures all seemed almost nonsense, but at least the solution was clear.

Only two letters could be a viable solution; M or W. If the young boy and his hunch was correct, the solution should be 'W', but he had to be careful not to work backwards for a solution. But, there appeared to be faint marks on the first picture, on what would be the 'bottom' of the W, which seemed to suggest that that was the correct way to read it.

“A very poor puzzle that one.” The professor mused under his breath. But it was the first victim, no doubt the killer hadn't quite got it right yet. The second puzzle was more wordy.

It had been written on a typewriter and pasted onto the wall behind the corpse, the same question mark as at the most recent scene painted above it. There was a photograph of the exact puzzle provided in the file. It read:

'A crime has taken place and there are 6 witnesses, one of which is the criminal. All the witnesses are acquainted and hate each other. You know all but one of them are lying and trying to get someone else arrested, and you also know the culprit themselves are lying. Who's the culprit?

A- It was F, I know it was

B- I saw D at the scene with my own two eyes!

C- A's right, F is so shifty

D- Can you believe C? They're the culprit!

E- B's really odd, you should arrest them.

F- Hey, it wasn't me! Suspect E instead!'

A simple 'spot the liar' puzzle which, while an improvement on the previous puzzle, still left much to be desired. If A was the truth teller, then C would also be telling the truth, meaning F could not be the culprit. The fact that his statement started out with declaring his innocence meant that he must be telling the truth, hence E was the culprit.

“East...” The professor mumbled, pulling out the map again. He orientated it so up was North, and examined each of the crime scenes in relation to each other. The second crime scene was West of the first, the third was East to the second.

The puzzles were stating where the next crime would take place.

He quickly excused himself from the tea party to get the to telephone and call up the yard. He was sure they would've worked that much out so far, but he needed to be certain.

After a quick transfer he ended up on the phone with Grosky again.

“Layton! I wasn't expecting a call so fast. Have anything for me?”

“Actually, I do Inspector. The boy was right, the solutions to the puzzles so far have all been directional. The second crime was West of the first, the third was East to the second. The next one will be North.” The professor explained, he voice surprisingly calm for explaining where a murder would happen soon if not stopped.

“Hmph. It's not much to go on, but we'll make sure there are extra patrols out North of the previous crime scene. If we could get a street that would be much more helpful.” Grosky asked, his voice rising at the end.

“I'll see what I can find, Inspector.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puzzle 002: Find the Letter (20 picarates)  
Puzzle 003: Who dunnit? (20 picarates)
> 
> Let's be honest, little Katrielle is absolutely going to imitate her father and his love of tea with a toy tea set. Also, strangest cameo you're ever gonna see, Beanie is actually one of my toys. He is now immortalised in a Professor Layton fanfic. He'll no doubt be very pleased. He was one of my favourites as a child. I love him still.
> 
> Wow putting photos onto AO3 is more difficult than I thought. Someone give me 10 picarates for figuring that out please lol. Also sorry for the poor quality of the puzzles this chapter, like I said, I'm not good at writing them. I prefer to solve them.


	5. The Locked Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professor goes searching for more clues at the previous crime scenes, and runs into a familiar...voice

Pouring over the files had revealed almost nothing more. With only three victims it was difficult to determine whether any patterns were indeed patterns, or just coincidences. The professor hated knowing so, but until there was another victim, he wasn't going to get any further.

But that didn't mean he was just going to sit around and wait for it to happen.

Leaving Kat and Flora home and in safety, the professor left to see the previous crime scenes from the past 2 cases. The first scene was in a small terraced house; locked up tight with a big 'To Let' sign out front. The victim was a 48 year old man who'd been renting the house for 30 years. The windows were boarded up where the culprit had smashed the glass to gain entry, which left very little to actually see.

The second scene was the restaurant: currently closed for cleaning and to try and get the horrid memory out of everyone's minds of what had happened there. The victim had been one of the waiters, an 18 year old boy currently in one of the local colleges and with great prospects ahead of him. With the third victim being an 84 year old lady who didn't live anywhere near the crime scene, it certainly seemed like the victimology was random at least, even if the scene wasn't.

One of the doors to an empty building next door creaked open but no-one answered when The professor called out. Curious, he ventured closer, calling out again as he inched the door open. He stuck his head in, only to receive a rough push from behind, the door slamming shut and a key twisting in the lock.

“I say! What do you think you're doing?” The professor asked, twisting the door handle desperately.

“My my professor, you should be more careful. Don't you know there's dangerous people about?”

The professor gasped; it was the same boy from before. As cocky as ever and a slight laugh beneath his words, the boy seemed to move closer to the door and knocked on it. The room the Professor had been locked in was small and pitch black, he couldn't see a thing.

“Whatever are you doing out this late? It's dangerous for you too, you know.” The professor asked, but the boy merely snorted.

“I'm safe, if the murderer follows the same pattern he has done the next victim will be found tomorrow. I'm pretty close to cracking the code of who's the next victim too.” The boy bragged.

“That is impressive. However did you figure it out?” The professor asked.

“Don't mock me.” The boy snarled

“I'm not. That is truly remarkable. You're certainly closer to the truth than myself or anyone in Scotland Yard. Have you considered going to them with this information?”

“Nah, that's boring. Anyway, I can't be certain yet, and they won't listen to a little kid.” The boy said nonchalantly.

“Well, why don't we assist each other? We could get to the truth much quicker then.” The professor asked, but the boy just laughed.

“No, you don't want to work with me. I'm not the type for polite society, 'sir'.” The boy mocked. “Anyway, I've got a better idea.”

“Do tell.”

“I'll let you ask me 3 questions, and I'll answer them all truthfully. But in return, I'll ask you three questions, and you must answer truthfully. If I think you're lying to me, or if you don't answer, I won't let you out.” The boy suggested.

“Very well. You may ask me first.” The professor said.

“Right. First, how many victims has the murderer taken so far?” The boy asked

“3. A middle aged man, a young teen, and the elderly lady at the warehouse.” The professor answered. Did the boy not know how many victims there had been? How was he so certain of his answers?

“Three victims... hmmm.” The boy pondered. “Alright, ask your first question, Professor.”

“How many victims do you think the murderer has taken?” The Professor asked.

“Ah, now you're thinking along the same lines as me. From what I've gathered, there's already 4 dead. Tomorrows victim will be the fifth.” The boy said confidently. “My second question: Why are you helping the police?”

“Well, it'd the duty of any true gentlem-”

“Let me rephrase then. Why are the police letting some random teacher help with a murder investigation?”

Ah. That made more sense. “I've helped a number of the police at Scotland Yard on previous cases before, mostly petty crimes, although I have helped on more... dire cases, as well. Inspector Grosky, the man who chased you yesterday, and Inspector Chelmey gave me as much information as they could about the case. Might I ask my second question now?”

The boy thought for a minute, then said “Sure. Go ahead.”

“Who do you believe is this extra victim that we haven't accounted for?” The Professor asked.

“Ha! I knew that would be the next one.” The boy cheered. “Jordan Knight, a woman in her early 20s. The police were called to the scene so there should be a report if you ask the Yard for it, but the puzzle had been taken from the scene before they arrived. It was in an envelope, I believe the murderer started making them more... grandiose and permanent after that. Ready for my final question, Professor?”

“Of course. I'm quite enjoying myself, considering I'm locked in a small, dark room.”

The boy gave a snort of laughter before asking “If you were to listen to your gut feeling, who do you think the next victim will be, and where would they be found?”

“A tricky question. I'd need to look at Miss Knight's file before I could say for certain, but if there's indeed a pattern emerging already, I'd have to say either an elderly man or an indeterminable aged woman, and it'll be north of the previous crime scene.”

“The woman.” The boy agreed. “I can't give you a street name yet, but maybe, if you were to wait at Thrislington Street at 5 tomorrow evening, I might have something for you then.”

“Oh?”

“I don't care much for the police, Professor. But I don't want to think I let some woman die cos I was too foolhardy to tell anyone. I hope you beat me to the punch, you probably should be able to.” The boy said. “I'll let you have that for free, as an 'apology' for locking you up. Now, your final question?”

“Very well. Tell me, what is your name?” The silence stretched on for a long while, in which the Professor started to regret asking. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah.” The boy answered. “Why?”

“Well, it's rather rude of me to constantly refer to you as 'the boy'. At the very least give me a pseudonym that you are happy with.”

There was silence for a long while before the answer came very quietly. “Al. You can call me Al.”

“Al it is then.” The Professor agreed with a smile.

“But don't go thinking you can find anything out about me! You won't be able to guess my name from that, it's too difficult of a puzzle.” Al jeered.

“I wouldn't dream of doing so without your permission.” The Professor said. “Might I be allowed to leave now?”

“Not so fast. One last puzzle, to prove to me you have any hope in this case.” Al said. “We'll stick with the theme of the evening. On the wall behind you there are two keys, the left key and the right key. Only one will open the door, the other is so brittle that trying to use it will lead to it snapping in the keyhole, locking you in until someone can save you tomorrow. Feel free to inspect them, they're pretty much identical.”

The Professor did just that, confirming Al's facts.

“Now, these keys have 2 guardians between them. One will always answer any question with the truth, the other will only ever lie. You may ask one question, given to them both, to try and figure out which key is genuine. Trying to ask any more questions will lead to them not answering. Make your move professor.”

The gatekeeper riddle, a classic and an easy solution. The Professor smiled to himself; if Al enjoyed puzzles, he could certainly build upon this common ground. Even if Grosky was uncertain of Al's help, The professor was certain that he would be vital to the case.

“Very well. I ask this of the guardians: If I were to ask the other guardian which key will snap in the lock, what would be their answer?”

A pleased chuckle came from the other side of the door. “Very well Professor. I look forward to our next meeting.”

“As do I, Al.”

“Both guardians answer 'The key on the right is the key that will break in the lock'.”

Footsteps hurried away from the door quicker than the Professor could grab the right key and unlock it. The Professor quickly glanced around, but there was no sign of Al, except a second key left hanging beside the door.

/////////////////////////

Al watched the Professor look around from his perch on the rooftop, an old set of stairs nicely bringing him up here and out of view. The Professor straightened his hat, looked around once more, then headed back to his strange car.

Al had never seen one quite like it. Nor had he ever seen a titfer quite like that one.

The question about his name had thrown him for a loop. He was almost certain the professor would ask about his current progress on predicting the next location, or maybe ask who had taken the letter, or possibly if he'd figured out who the culprit might be yet.

He wasn't any further on getting a list of suspects, but that was for the police to sort out. They knew who everyone in the city was, after all. All Al knew was that the culprit believed themselves much smarter than they were, with how horrible the puzzles set forth so far had been.

He hadn't been lying, when he said he looked forward to his next meeting with the Professor. The man was very intriguing, and no doubt able to meet, if not surpass, Al. He was so much more interesting than everyone back at the home, none of them could even work out the conditions of the gatekeeper riddle, never mind the answer. They all just yelled out banal questions, trying to figure out which was the truthful gatekeeper, not realising it didn't matter.

Al stood up and made his way across the roof, balancing on the edge for the rush of danger. Oh yes, he couldn't wait for his next meeting with the great Professor Herschel Layton, saviour of London and true English gentleman.

And somewhere deep inside him, a feeling he tried to brush off as excitement and interest, was the hope that the professor was truthfully looking forward to the next meeting too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puzzle 004- Two keys (40 picarates)
> 
> I like the gatekeeper puzzle. It's easy once you know the solution but it's one hell of an elegant solution. I always want to cosplay as a Layton character and bring lots of sweets with me, then pose that riddle to anyone who recognizes my costume. It's be so much fun. Alternatively, making little hint coins as a prize would be cool too. I could probably cosplay Katrielle, although with a hair cut I would make an awesome Lucy Baker, I've already got the accent pinned down.
> 
> Finally I can stop referring to Al as 'the boy'. He's definitely more interested in the Professor than he's letting on or admitting to himself though. If you still haven't figured out who it could be yet, he'd be most angry.
> 
> I'm having quite a lot of fun letting the characters drag my poor puzzle designs.


	6. Night Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The professor manages to get the file on what was potentially the first victim, if Al is to be trusted.

The next morning was a Sunday, and breakfast was a simple jam on toast, but it was ample opportunity for the Professor to share the revelations about Al to Flora. Katrielle seemed to listen with interest, as she always did when her dad talked, but Flora seemed very unsure.

“So he locked you in a room to ask you questions about the case? He doesn't sound very trustworthy.” Flora said.

“I think he's just wary. If you wanted to talk to someone, and didn't want them to know what you look like, what other options would you have?” The Professor asked.

“The phone would work. Or he could've just asked you. I don't doubt that you would do anything for him to keep his identity a secret if he wanted it to be.”

“Like I said, he's wary. He doesn't know whether to trust me yet, I just need to keep working at it.” The professor mused, sipping his tea thoughtfully.

“That's another thing! Why does he need to keep his identity a secret? What is he planning, or what has he done, that's so bad he doesn't want you to know his real name?” Flora asked.

“I'm not sure. I'm hoping to try and figure it out, although I'm sure he won't appreciate it.” The professor sighed. “It's a fine balancing act between getting him to trust me, and finding out enough about him to be able to help him.”

There was silence for a long while at the table, in which Kat tried to imitate her dad as he drank, but only succeeded in pouring her juice all over her.

“You don't think he's... dangerous, do you?” Flora asked quietly.

“No, not exactly. From what I've gathered, he's just very intelligent and very, very bored. It's a difficult combination.” The Professor met Flora's eyes with a smile. “I'm sure he poses no risk to myself or either of you two.”

They cleared up after breakfast together, Flora deciding to take Kat into the garden to play while the Professor called up Scotland Yard once again, getting put through to Grosky once again.

“Ah Layton! Have anything new for me?” Grosky asked, his voice still booming as ever.

“Quite possibly, Inspector. I received a lead that there may have been another victim, before what we think was the first victim, except the puzzle was removed before the police turned up.”

“Well, we certainly wouldn't have thought much of it without that. Where did you get this lead from, Layton?” Grosky asked.

“Our mutual friend, the boy from the warehouse. He seems to be leading his own investigation. I know it might not be considered the most reliable of leads, but I would still be interested in pursuing it if possible.”

“I'll see what I can do. What's the name?”

“Jordan Knight. Shall I pop over to collect it?”

“No, one of the newer recruits has a patrol passing by your house starting soon, I'll get them to deliver it. Anything else?”

“The boy seems certain the next attack will happen tonight. He's asked me to meet him at Thrislington Street at 5 o'clock to see if we can figure out where. He's also concluded that the next victim will likely be a middle aged woman.”

“Well, he's been working hard. I'll meet you there, Layton.”

/////////////////////

Flora had been attempting to teach Katrielle how to make flower crowns in the garden, but Katrielle had decided that throwing handfuls of grass at Flora was much more fun. Once the professor joined them, it ended up becoming a full on grass fight instead, the garden looking a little worse for wear for it. But a flower crown was made for Katrielle at least.

The file arrived not long after lunch and, with the day being as glorious as it was, the professor took to reading it in the garden while Katrielle pottered around, yelling greeting at the insects. Flora eyed the small amount of notes the Professor had received.

“It's not much to go on, is it?” Flora asked. It was barely a page. Miss Knight was apparently a very secretive woman who, true to the case, had been stabbed in the back and left to bleed to death, this time in a back alley. The sole suspect was her boyfriend, Gary Leight, but as he had been working all night and had a cast iron alibi, he was dropped from the suspect list.

But there were still nearly 3 hours before the meeting time with Al, and he quite wanted something to show for all the information Al had kindly given him last night. He pulled out the map from the original file, adding on the location of Miss Knight's death. He noted that it seemed to be North East of the first official victim.

The murders weren't precisely in each direction given in the puzzle: the waiter was actually South West of the first victim, and the old lady was South East of the Waiter. It almost seemed to be forming a spiral shape.

And there was a very famous sequence to do with spirals.

But before the professor could start counting streets, the clock showed it was time to leave to meet with Al, and he didn't want to keep him waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, plus an obscure puzzle. It's not an official one, but if you can figure out what the iconic spiral might be, give yourself 60 picarates. It's my favourite mathematical sequence, which is undoubtably the nerdiest thing I could have written.
> 
> (In case you were wondering, I also have a favourite mathematical proof, being that 0.4999999999 (with the 9 recurring infinetly) can be proven to be equal to 0.5)


	7. Run

The Professor made his way towards Thrislington Street without haste, parking the laytonmobile as quickly as he could and searching quickly for Al, or anywhere where Al might be thinking of meeting up. It was a small residential street, two rows of terraced houses without anywhere to really hide, so instead the professor stood at the northern intersection and took out his notes again.

If his theory was correct, then the streets might change in accordance with the Fibonacci sequence, where the next number is decided by the sum of the previous two. The second victim was found merely a street north and one street east of Knight, the third victim then 2 streets south and three streets west of that.

“Evening Layton. Working hard, I see.” Grosky noted, walking over to where the Professor was pouring over the map.

“Of course, Inspector. I think I've worked out how to figure out the next location of a crime.” Layton pointed to the map. “The famous Fibonacci sequence. From what I've counted so far, the next body is always found according to those numbers, with the larger number taking up the direction of the solution of the previous puzzle.”

“Are you certain?” Grosky asked, almost pushing The professor in an attempt to see the map better.

“Yes. If I'm correct, then the next crime should take place 13 streets east and 21 streets north which would put it-”

“Are you serious?!” An angry yell interrupted the conversation. Layton and Grosky quickly turned around to spot Al, seemingly fuming, staring at them from down the street. “You've only just realised it? God you're all HOPELESS!” He turned and ran down the street, almost crashing into pedestrians as he went.

“Wait! Al!” The professor yelled, giving chase. Grosky quickly surpassed him, managing to grab Al from the crowd.

“Now listen here, young man-” Grosky started.

“No! Let go!” Al kicked out at Grosky, one well placed kick managing to force him to let go. “We're almost too late!” He turned and ran off again, the Professor following as close by as he could. Al seemed to have an easier time getting through the crowd than Layton did.

It wasn't until they'd almost reached the location that The professor realised where Al was running to. Police sirens had started to follow them, and with barely a few metres to go the Professor finally managed to grab Al. Grosky caught up not long after, although Al kept struggling in the Professor's grip.

“Al, where is it? Where's the next crime scene?” Layton asked, Al still struggling to break free of his tight hold.

“Somewhere on this street, it has to be!” Al cried out, his struggles finally starting to die down. Grosky shot off along the road, banging on doors and checking in gardens, a number of officers following suit. The professor finally let go of Al.

Without shadows or a doorway to block the sight, the professor finally got a good look at Al. He was just a young child, no older than 10, and shorter than Luke was at that age. His hair was a mess, and his clothes and face was dirty. His yellow eyes seemed bristling with tears.

“I thought you would've figured it out, Professor.” He said, fighting back sniffles.

“I'm sorry Al. There's no excuse for me letting you down.” The Professor answered solemnly. He glanced over at where the police were now filing in to one garden. There could hardly be any doubt: The next victim was back there. “Is there anyway to make it up to you?”

Al didn't answer, nor did he look at the Professor. He simply watched the police file in and out of the garden, without any suspects. An officer called for an ambulance. “We didn't get here in time. The murderers gone.” He said miserably.

“Indeed. If we don't catch them, there will be another victim.” The Professor agreed. “Al, if I may be so bold, it might be better if we worked together on this case. Clearly I need your input.”

“Yeah, you do.” Al said, a small amount of that usual cocky tone creeping back in. “But what's in it for me?”

“I couldn't let you read the police files I was given, but I can certainly give you a quick overview of what's inside them. And I have other, non-police resources you quite possibly don't have access to.”

“Like what?”

“My car, for one. We can cover ground much more easily using it.” The professor answered with a smile. “And, if you don't have one at the minute, I do have a spare bedroom in my house.”

Al's eyebrows knitted themselves into a scowl. “What, live with you?”

“Of course, you don't have to. But it would be my pleasure to have you as a guest, Al.”

“Will there be food?”

“A good host would never let a guest go hungry, my boy. And your own bed. A bath as well, if you wish to use it. My whole house would be open to you, if that's what you want.” The Professor gave him a big, genuine smile. “I understand if you don't want to, but-”

“No, no. It sounds great.” Al murmured. “What's the catch though?”

“No catch, well, not exactly. My daughter and my protoge both live with me, so it won't just be yourself and I, but they won't mind some company. I promise.”

Al stood for a while considering it, biting his lip, his face betraying how torn he felt. Eventually he shrugged. “Sure. Yeah, let's work together, Professor. And, uh, I'll take you up on the full offer, too.” He finally met the professor's eyes. “If you don't mind.”

“Of course not, I wouldn't have offered if I did, would I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to name the street but couldn't think of anything, and didn't want to go grab an actual London street, so I stole the name from up north since that seems to be a thing for southern streets. I walked down Sunderland Street in Bristol once! It was very bizarre.
> 
> Al's finally coming home next chapter. He's definitely more upset that the professor didn't solve the puzzle in time and that the killer got away than he is worried about the victim. Also I'm not entirely certain on his eye colour, Fendi definitely has green eyes, but Al's look more yellow in colour. Sadly we never get a close up view of them as his eyes are shadowed by his hair in his cut across.


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professor has finally convinced Al to work with him, offering him food and a bed in return. Al's not entirely sold on the idea, but it can't go that badly, surely?

The car journey back was very quiet. Al was very interested in the car, silently examining the interior as they drove back to the Professor's house, searching through the glove box and glancing over at the car's dashboard. He didn't say a word the whole journey.

They arrived outside the professor's house, Al once again staring out the outside of the building, taking in every aspect that he could. “Is it to your liking, Al?” The Professor asked with a smile.

“It's very... nice, I suppose.” Al said quietly. “The flowers smell nice.” He added as if not able to think of anything else to say.

“Thank you, I quite like it myself. Shall we go inside?”

The professor led the way, Al following behind silently. It was almost tea time, the smell of Flora's cooking wafting through an open window. It was a lot more appetising than it had been some years ago, at least. The Professor let Al in first, entering behind him and shutting the door.

“Daddy!” Came Kat's shout as she waddled out into the entry hall, stopping dead at the sight of Al. Al too seemed to freeze at the sight of her. “Who's that?” Kat asked, pointing at Al.

“Kat, don't point, it's rude.” The professor softly scolded. Kat lowered her finger. Flora entered the hallway too to see what all the fuss was about, her eyebrows raising at the sight of Al. “This is Al, he's helping me with my current case and he'll be staying here a while.”

Flora regained her composure and walked over to offer to shake Al's hand. “Hello Al, it's nice to finally meet you face to face.”

“Oh, it's you.” Al said, none-too-softly. “The girl who doesn't understand me.”

“Yes, well.” The Professor interrupted. “Katrielle, how do you feel about sleeping in my room for a while, so Al can sleep in yours?”

“Yay!” Katrielle cheered, motioning for the Professor to pick her up. He did so, giving her a hug.

“Flora dear, how long until dinner?” The Professor asked.

“Um, a little while yet. I made pie, it still has to bake. Maybe an hour?” Flora offered.

“Very well. Al, would you like to have a wash while we're waiting? I might have some spare clothes you can borrow, we'll wash yours so they're fresh for you tomorrow.” Al seemed a little befuddled by all of what was going on, but nodded along anyway. “Come on, I'll show you around.”

Kat rested her head on her dad's shoulder, staring at Al as the Professor showed him around the house, including to Kat's bedroom where he'd be staying while he was here. It was certainly decorated more to Kat's tastes, but Al didn't seem too fussed about it. Katrielle demanded to be put down so as to show Al her favourite teddy bears, although Al didn't seem to enjoy the conversation, pulling disgusted faces at Kat. Not to be deterred, Kat insisted that Al take one of the teddy bears to have during his stay, while she took her own favourite to the Professor's room.

The Professor showed Al the location of the bathroom last, instructing him on how to run the bath, before leaving the boy with a towel and the promise that there'd be bed clothes laid out on his bed once he was done. Kat returned to bother Flora while the Professor climbed into the attic to look through what was stored there.

While Luke had been his apprentice, he would often stay in the room that eventually became Kat's, especially when their adventures left Luke too tired to return home, or his parents were away on business. When Luke left, he'd taken most of his clothes with him, but he didn't have room for them all, and some he'd already grown out of and were pointless to take. The professor had been meaning to take them to a charity shop for a while, but had never gotten around to it. There was no way any of it would fit Luke now, and surely he wouldn't mind Al borrowing it.

There were even some old blue bedding that Luke had used when sleeping in the bed.

/////////////////////////

An hour later and tea was served, Al finally coming down at the prospect of food. The clothes were big on him and only seemed to highlight how scrawny he looked, but at least he now looked clean. His hair was still a mess though.

“This is delicious Flora, thank you very much.” The professor said as they were tucking in. It truly was, Flora had certainly outdone herself this time and she was positively beaming over it. Al clearly thought so too, as his plate was very quickly cleaned, not a single scrap left over, and finished in almost half the time the rest of them had taken.

“Hungry, Al?” Flora asked. “There's more if you want it.”

Al's eyebrows shot up in surprise, glancing over at the Professor as if trying to confirm it was true. “You can't investigate on an empty stomach now, can you?” The Professor joked.

“Yeah, you can.” Al responded a little incredulously. It was the professor's turn to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“Would you like some more, Al?” Flora asked again.

“Yeah.” Al confirmed, adding after a pause. “Please.”

Flora smiled brightly, taking Al's plate away and returning not long after with another plate full. Al's look of surprise that she wasn't joking quickly turned into a smile as he dug in again, this time at a slower pace.

“It's reading week at the university next week, so I'll be free all day. Why don't we rest up tonight and then get back onto the case tomorrow when we're refreshed? Inspector Grosky might have some news for us then as well.” The Professor said, Al pausing for a long moment before nodding his approval. “Very well. What should we do tonight then?”

“Puzzle!” Katrielle yelled, smacking her fork against the table.

“Careful, Kat. And since Al's the guest, shouldn't he decide?” The Professor said. Al looked up for a moment, still eating his mashed potatoes with his mouth open.

“I don't know. You decide.” He said with his mouth full, turning back to his food. Flora winced slightly.

“Does a jigsaw puzzle sound good to you then?” The Professor asked, Kat chanting 'puzzle' over and over again. Al gave him an exasperated look.

“Sure, whatever.”

Once the dishes had been cleared away and the table cleaned down, Flora pulled out a jigsaw puzzle and set it on the table. 1000 pieces and a picture of a Victorian street in London. Al looked at the picture for a while before turning back to the actual puzzle pieces. The professor, Flora and Kat set about starting with the edge and corner pieces, occasionally having to stop Kat from sticking them in her mouth, while Al instead seemed to be arranging the centre pieces but never connecting any.

“You're meant to start at the edges, Al.” Flora said, trying to be helpful.

“So?” Al snapped. “I'll do what I want, it's just a jigsaw.”

“Now now.” The professor quickly interjected. “It's fine to solve the puzzle however you wish, no way is more correct than another.”

“But it's easier this way.” Flora pointed out.

“If I wanted easy, I'd do a children's puzzle.” Al snarled. “I'm doing it the right way.”

Flora glared at Al a moment before giving off a light huff and turning back to the edge she was working on. Al picked up a piece and threw it at her.

“There's your edge piece, Flora.” He taunted, Flora squealing in shock.

“Alright, let's calm down now.” The Professor said sternly. “Al, it's not nice to throw things, and Flora, there's no need to get Al riled up. However he wants to solve the puzzle, he can.” Flora and Al avoided looking at each other or the Professor. Flora finally apologised, but Al only blew a raspberry in response. The Professor bit his lip; this was going to be harder than he thought.

///////////////

They eventually retired to bed with the puzzle a quarter way finished. Al had quickly ran to his bedroom without saying good night to anyone, while the Professor carried an almost asleep Kat back to his. Flora stopped him before he went though.

“Professor, can I have a word?” Flora asked.

“Why of course. What's troubling you Flora?” He asked, although he was almost certain of the answer already.

“It's Al! He's rude, he's mean, he gets angry so quickly. Why does he have to stay with us?” Flora asked, nearing on tears. “I can't stand him.”

“I know Flora, but I need him to solve this case with me. I promise, I'll try to keep him in line, or at least, try to keep you two out of each other's way as much as possible.”

Flora didn't answer, her shoulders just shaking silently.

“Flora, can you remember when you first came here with Luke and myself? You didn't know anyone, everything was so strange and new. Al's probably feeling the same, but he's acting out in anger, rather than just being shy like you were.” Flora met the Professor's eyes with more understanding than she would have liked. “We just have to be patient with him, he's not bad, just-”

“Scared.” Flora finished in a whisper.

“Yes.” The Professor confirmed, again in a whisper. “Not that he'd admit it. I very much doubt he's a bad person, just a good person who's acting out in unhelpful ways. He just needs someone understanding, is all.”

“You always see the best in people, Professor.” Flora said with a sad smile.

“Well, that's because there is always a best there somewhere, Flora. And I know we've yet to see it in Al.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Flora's really getting it from Al. The two have such different personallities, but hopefully the Professor can stop any real issues before they arise. 
> 
> Kat certainly seems keen on Al anyway, even if Al seems less than keen on her. He must have a reason, surely?


	9. Leighting the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally it's time to work together and put all the pieces in place.

Grosky showed up in person early the next morning, another file in his hands. He looked grave but with a small smile on his face when the Professor opened the door, still in his pyjamas.

“The fifth victim's going to survive, Layton. She'll be in hospital a while, but she'll be right as rain soon enough.” Grosky assured him. “Next time you see that lad, give him the good news, alright? He seemed very distressed that we might not save her.”

The Professor took the file but decided not to mention that Al was currently fast asleep upstairs, nor that Al seemed more distressed at the thought of not catching the killer than the victim's well-being. “Thank you inspector. I'm sure he'll be pleased to know he's helping.”

Al didn't wake up for a couple of hours after the Professor, but he did eventually wander downstairs to the smell of toast, mumbling out a good morning as he climbed onto one of the dining room seats.

“Did you sleep well, Al?” Flora asked, sounding more cheerful this morning than she had last night. Al mumbled out something incoherent and buttered a slice of toast with quite a fair amount of butter.

“Flora will be leaving to attend her college soon Al, and then I'll drop Kat off at daycare, so we can investigate in peace and quiet. You can stay here if you want, or come with me to drop of Kat. Your choice.” The Professor said.

Al considered it as he ate his toast. “Well, while we're out, why don't I show you the location of the first murder? You've gone to see the others, right?”

“Yes, I have. It's a fine idea Al.” The Professor agreed.

Al's clothes from yesterday had been washed and he put those back on before they left. Katrielle travelled in the back of the car, babbling in excitement about what she was planning to do at daycare today. Some plans sounded very standard, like drawing and colouring, others were quite remarkable, such as fighting a dragon. The Professor talked back with her the whole way there, while Al remained quiet, almost seeming to sulk in the front seat.

Once Kat had been dropped off, they headed to the area of London where Jordan Knight had been murdered. Al was the first to speak.

“So what do you already know about this murder, Professor?” He asked.

“Let's see. Miss Jordan Knight, found dead in the middle of the street outside the flat she shared with her boyfriend, Gary Leight. He was the only suspect, but was cleared by his alibi. The case is still open but considered cold.” The Professor recalled. “According to yourself, it was the first riddle killing, but the puzzle was taken from the scene.”

“Yep. If you promise not to go telling the police about it, I can probably wrangle you up the original puzzle to look at to prove it. But you have to promise.” Al insisted. “I can't let my informants get into trouble, you see.”

“Of course not. I promise I won't mention it, Al.” The professor promised.

They pulled up on the street, a shady looking, over-built street of flats that seemed to block out all the light. The professor pulled up and parked his car, stepping out with some uncertainty. Al seemed to hold no reservations.

“Right here, Professor. 'Fraid there's not much to look at, though.” Al said, pointing to the middle of the road in front of the second building along the street.

“Very well. What of this informant of yours then?”

“I'll go look for him. You stay here, alright?” Al said.

“I'm not sure that's entirely safe.” The professor said, his voice laden with concern.

“I mean you can stay in your car if you're scared.” Al suggested with a shrug.

“I meant for yourself, actually. Why don't I accompany you?”

“No, no. I, uh, need to grab some stuff. Wait here, alright? I won't be long.” Al said, rushing off before he got an answer and not stopping when the Professor called out for him. The professor gave a loud sigh, waiting by his car and rearranging his hat. Surely Al wouldn't be that long, and he'd already proven himself quite capable.

“Morning, guv'ner.” Came a gruff voice from behind the Laytonmobile. The Professor turned to face a young man with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Good morning. Fine day today, is it not?” The Professor asked.

“Sure is. Mighty fine titfer you got there, guv'ner.”

“My hat?” The Professor asked. “Yes, I'm quite fond of it myself.”

“Don't see many hats like that around here. Bet ya there's some money in it, eh?”

“I'm sorry? I don't store my money in my hat.”

“That's not what I meant, guv'ner.” The man said, getting unbearably close. “See, this is how it works-”

“GARY!” Al screamed as he ran up to the two men, carrying a bag. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Well now, Al. You've put me off my game.” Gary moaned, stepping back from the Professor.

“I should hope so! He's with me, none of your tricks, alright?” Al snapped. “You so much as take a shilling from him and I'll tear your ears off.”

The Professor found himself looking between the two in shock, Al's threat seeming too real to let it slide as a joke. But Gary simply ruffled the young boys hair in amusement.

“Moving up in the world then? Where did you even find this one?”

“He's my partner in my investigation.” Al said solemnly. Gary's smile faded.

“The riddle killings? You're here about Jordan, aren't ya.” He said sadly.

“I presume you're Gary Leight then. I'm sorry for your loss.” The Professor placed a comforting hand on the man's arm.

“Do you still have the puzzle Gary?” Al asked. Gary nodded and pulled an envelope out of his coat.

“Here, keep it if you want.” He said. “I was keeping it as a memento of Jordan, even though Al kept wanting to see it.” Gary turned to the Professor. “I'm not too keen on Al sticking his nose into this, mind. Too adult, y'know? He's just a kid.”

“I assume you two know each other well then?” The Professor asked. He'd never considered that Al had taken the case up for personal reasons, from a friend's girlfriend being killed.

“Not really. He turns up every so often and drives me crackers, but that's it. I don't know anything about the kid. Jordan liked him enough to make me talk to him every so often, but the landlady don't like kids, see.” Gary shrugged.

“Hey, I'm still here! Stop talking about me like I'm not!” Al snapped.

Gary frowned at Al, once again ruffling his hair. “Keep him out of trouble, mind. As a favour to me, since I didn't take your money today, guv'ner.”

There didn't really seem to be an answer to that.

///////////////////////////

They drove back not long after, the London traffic making it slow going.

“Sorry about Gary, Professor. He's good people, really.” Al said, ruffling through the contents of his bag. It sounded to be mostly papers. “Doesn't have two braincells to rub together to help me with this case, though.”

“It's quite alright Al, but you shouldn't insult people so much. People will take offence, you know.” The Professor said, his voice stern but calm. Al bit his lip and turned away.

“Sorry.” He mumbled out.

“It's not me you should be apologising to, but enough of that for now. What's in the bag?”

“My notes.” Al said, perking up. “Been writing down anything I find or figure out, thought it might come in handy.”

“I imagine they will. Have you already seen the first puzzle?”

“Of course. It's poorly constructed though.” Al said with a shrug. “Won't take you long to solve it, I'm sure.” He said with a small smile, adding on hastily afterwards. “That is, of course, if you're actually as good as you pretend to be.”

The Professor frowned at that. It wasn't that he felt insulted, he'd had much worse said to him over the years, but for some reason Al seemed to always follow up any compliment with an insult. It was quite strange. Al didn't seem to be thinking much of it, although he still seemed deep in thought.

“Penny for your thought, my boy?” The Professor asked, Al looking at him quizzically. “I can tell you've been thinking about something outside of this case, I'd like to hear it.”

Al stared down at his hands for a while, biting his lip as if unsure to actually ask it. “...Did you used to have a son?” He finally asked.

“Whatever do you mean?” The Professor asked.

“You have boys clothes in my size, and bedding meant for a boy, but there's no boys in your house other than me. There's photos of you with a boy my age around your house, and you haven't gotten rid of the clothes, so they must mean something to you.” Al summarised. “Who is he?”

“Ah, I see.” The Professor said, taking a deep breath. “No, he was my friend's son, he worked as my apprentice for a few years. But his family immigrated overseas, so I don't see him much any more. He used to stay with me quite often. We were close.”

Al was quiet after this, thinking it over. “You must really miss them.” He said, more as if stating a fact than trying to be sympathetic. “Both your friend and his son.”

“Yes, I do.” The Professor replied sadly. “But Katrielle keeps me almost as busy as Luke did. And I receive letters from him regularly still, with the occasional visit. It's not so bad, that's just how life is sometimes.”

“Wouldn't be the same, though.” Al refuted. “Did he used to help you on cases like this?”

“Yes, we had many great adventures together.”

“Like the time that mobile fortress tore apart London?” Al asked. “Gary told me that was one of yours.”

The Professor laughed. “Yes, that was our last one. Definitely one of our more infamous adventures anyway.”

“Well, now you get to experience what it's like to be him then, since I'm the one in charge of this investigation.” Al said stubbornly, the Professor having to fight back a chuckle. He'd been half worried that Al would think he was just using him as a replacement Luke; the conclusion that the Professor was instead being Luke this time around was much funnier.

///////////////////////

Once they got back they set about getting all of their notes together, scattering them across the dining table. Al tipped out his bag to show everything he'd collected, including newspapers and old flyers covered in scribbles from various colours of pens. There didn't seem to be a theme in the colouring, perhaps it's just what he had to hand at the time.

“Should we start at the first victim or the most recent one then?” The Professor asked. Al pulled together various sheets of his own paper.

“The first one, Jordan Knight.” He said, pulling out the puzzle to hand it to the Professor. “Here, take a look.”

The instructions were written on a typewriter, hastily shoved into the envelope. The puzzle read:

'Starting facing North, you turn left, right, right, right, left, left, turn around, left, left. Which way do you face?'

The professor grabbed a pen and some paper, drawing out the instructions and quickly coming to the answer. “North, do you agree?” He asked, pushing the paper towards Al. Al didn't look at it.

“Yeah, but we already knew that from the map.” Al confirmed. “Notice anything strange about this puzzle compared to the rest?”

“It's the only one where the answer is, without a doubt, a direction.” The Professor confirmed. “It also has the same solution as the fourth puzzle.”

“Yep. It's how I figured out all the other solutions were directions.” Al said with a smile. He pulled out more papers from the pile. “The second puzzle's solution was 'W', West, and the third's was E, East. The fourth one's was the North Star. We haven't had 'South' as a solution yet, I wonder why that might be.”

“Do you think it'll be relevant?” The Professor asked. He had an inkling at the answer already, but letting Al take the reins on the investigation seemed to be making the boy happy. Al twirled a pen around his fingers.

“No. They're kinda tied by this spiral they're working in.” He pulled out a map and pointed it out, the numbers in the sequence written across the bottom. “With the number of streets between the victims being added together to get the next distance. Of course, with only one direction, we've kind of got to extrapolate the next location from the spiral.”

“Shall we move onto the next victim?” The Professor asked, pulling out the police file. Al grinned and pulled out more of his papers. They were all in a messy pile, but at least Al seemed to know where everything was.

“I rather think there's nothing of particular interest about them, actually.” Al said. “Other than the location, age and gender of them, which we can use to find the next victim. Have you figured out that puzzle yet?”

“I believe so.” The professor answered, pulling out the most recent file. “The most recent victim is 34 year old Gloria Irving, a woman who was living with a friend following a nasty break-up. The friend's shed is where she was attacked.” The professor read out, while Al scribbled the number down. “She survived, Al. We got there in time to save her.”

“But we didn't catch the killer.” Al insisted.

“Maybe not, but saving someone's life is much more important than catching the killer.” The Professor assured him.

“Not if they kill again. Anyway, have you solved this puzzle then? Who's the next victim going to be?” Al asked, pushing the paper over to the Professor.

It was written on the back of an old flyer for a local competition, and was as follows:

24=G

48=B

18=B

84=G

34=G

“If I'm not mistaken, any time the genders of the next victim matches the gender of the previous one, the units stay the same.” The Professor concluded. “But if the genders change, then the unit of the previous age becomes the tens value of the next victim.”

“Very good Professor, I agree.” Al smirked.

“So the next victim will either by a 40 something year old man, or a woman 4 years past her last decade.” The professor said.

“Precisely.” Al said, his usual cocky smirk plastered across his face. “Well done, professor. I have to say, I'm impressed.”

“Well done to you to, I couldn't possibly have figured it out without your guidance.” The professor said, looking over at Jordan's file. No wonder Al had figured out the next victim before everyone else, he'd managed to wrangle more data than them.

“So let's see this latest puzzle.” Al said with a grin. “I reckon the solution is either north or west, since that's where the spiral is headed next.”

The Professor pulled out the puzzle, giving it a quick glance over. “It's a word search.”

“A word search?” Al said, disappointment evident on his face. “Boring. I wanted a more exciting puzzle than that.”

“Well, why don't I find you some after we're done here- oh my.” The Professor halted himself, looking at the word search with shock.

“What is it?” Al asked, jumping out of his seat to try and peer over the Professor's shoulder.

The Professor pointed at two of the words at the bottom left, 'professor' and 'boy'. “All the words are related to the theme of the case, except these two. They know we're investigating them.” The professor said.

“I'm not scared.” Al said defiantly.

“I'm sure.” The professor answered, pulling out a pen to solve the puzzle. It took nearly no time.

“He forgot about knife.” Al said, his eyebrows knitting into a scowl. “It's on the list of words, but it's not in the puzzle.”

“Maybe he forgot about it.” The Professor said. “Look, there's smudging of the ink. No doubt he pencilled in the letters first, then possibly moved knife and forgot to add it back into the puzzle afterwards.”

“Maybe.” Al mused. “Or maybe it's to bring attention to something else. What's the leftover letters?”

“ETWS” The Professor read out. “It rearranges to 'WEST', of course.”

“The knife will be west. The next crime scene will be mostly West.” Al said, rushing back to grab his map, counting out the roads. “55 roads West, and 34 roads North to follow the spiral... There.” Al said triumphantly, pointing to a road nearing the edge of London. “We're looking for a X4 year old woman, or a 40-X year old man on this street as the next victim. Go tell the inspector, Professor. See if they can set a trap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puzzle 005:Which Direction?- 20 picarates  
Puzzle 006: Victimology- 50 picarates  
Puzzle 007: A Deadly Wordsearch- 20 picarates
> 
> Little Al certainly enjoys being the one in charge. Thankfully, the Professor seems happy to let him take charge, especially since Al had reached various conclusion before even he could. Also Al's first threat of the fic! Judging from Gary's reaction though its not his first threat altogether.
> 
> The professor was actually correct in a meta sense. While writing up that wordsearch, I originally put knife going down from the top left corner, with poison put next to it. However, once I realised I didn't have enough room to put in more words in the arrangement, I rubbed it out to put it elsewhere, making room for 'run'. Then I completely forgot that it was meant to be in the wordsearch. I feel this worked out anyway. I like writing wordsearches, they're the best puzzle to create, very enjoyable. My favourite puzzle to solve however is placement puzzles, such as tangrams, piccrosses or sudoku. Difficult enough to be a challenge, easy enough to be fun. Sadly, not easy enough to put in the fic.
> 
> These first lot of chapters might have come up rapidly, but it'll take longer from here on out. I'm writing this fic around EMS, since my hands are too worn out to do anything other than typing at the end of the day. There's a puzzle for you, when will the next chapter come out? Who knows? There's possibly 4 or five more chapter to come, though.


	10. There's something about Al...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case is almost closed, but Al's not having an easy time.

The police had been informed and were discretely checking on everyone in the street they'd identified, trying to find the next possible victim to see if they were willing to try to help catch the killer. Al seemed fairly agitated at the thought of having to wait, having taken to pacing around the living room while the Professor was on the phone. Flora returned home with Kat while the Professor was in the middle of the call, both of them exchanging a smile in greeting. When the Professor finally put the phone down, he noticed a commotion in the living room.

“Put Humble down.” Al demanded, trying to grab a ratty old teddy bear from Flora's grasp.

“Oh but he's in need of repair, Al! I can fix him up if you want.” She offered.

“I don't want him fixed, I want him back. Put him down!” He yelled again, twisting Flora's wrist until she dropped the teddy bear in shock.

“What is going on in here?” The Professor asked as Flora rubbed her arm, tears welling in her eyes.

“Flora stole Humble and wouldn't give him back.” Al spat, holding the teddy bear behind himself.

“I didn't know he was Al's, it just looks so worn down, I just wanted to help.” Flora explained.

“I don't want your help, leave me alone.” Al said.

“I think we need to take a moment to calm down, alright? Al, you mustn't grab Flora like that, it's not nice to hurt other people. And Flora, when Al asks you to put down his teddy bear, please do so without complaint.” The Professor instructed. Al was still pouting, holding his teddy bear close. It was missing an eye and an arm, the tummy had lost all its stuffing and one ear was hanging off, leaving it looking like little more than old fabric. But clearly it was quite dear to Al.

Neither Al nor Flora spoke for a while, the silence eventually broken by Katrielle trying to grab Al's attention.

“Humble?” She asked, holding a hand out. Al glared at her.

“No, you can't play with Humble. Go away.” He hissed.

“Play?” Katrielle asked again, trying to take Al's hand, but Al pulled it back like he'd been burned.

“No. Go. Away.” He hissed. Katrielle's eyes were starting to well with tears now.

“Come on, Kat, why don't we play instead?” The Professor offered, taking Katrielle's still outreached hand. Al stood in silence for a while, still clutching Humble, before he stormed off, the sound off his feet stomping up the stairs and slamming a door behind him telling the Professor that he'd probably retreated to his bed.

“Strange name for a teddy bear.” Flora said quietly. “Especially for Al.”

“There must be a reason.” The Professor reckoned. “Maybe it's named after someone with the name.”

“Like a serial killer?” Flora asked. “Al seems really interested in those.”

“Perhaps.” The Professor mused, still knelt on the floor with Katrielle.

A loud bang from upstairs caught them all off guard. The Professor jumped to his feet and rushed up to Al's room in worry.

///////////////

No, no, he hadn't meant to do that! The bed was clearly too fragile, he hadn't meant to break it! But now the leg he'd kicked out at in frustration was shattered, the bed at an awkward angle now it was only on the 3 legs.

Peterson always said his anger would get the better of him one day, and now here he was, having broken the bed of the Professor's daughter, the professor who had so kindly taken him in, fed him. Worked with him on the case. He'd ruined it. He'd ruined everything!

The sound of rapid footsteps up the stairs sent Al's heart racing as he tried to look for somewhere to hide, somewhere to run, but short of the window that barely opened to stop Katrielle falling out of it, there wasn't anyway to go in this undersized room except one of the corners.

The knocking at the door was fairly loud. “Al, is everything alright? I heard a bang.” The Professor's voice came through the door, but Al's voice caught in his throat. “Al?” He asked again, but still got no response. “I'm coming in Al.”

The door handle twisted as did Al's stomach, as the professor walked in, glancing around the room to spot Al, still pushed up against his corner, trying for his usual bravado but failing. The Professor got closer, a look of concern on his face, stopping only when Al pushed himself further into the wall.

“Is everything alright, Al?” The Professor asked, finally spying the broken bed. “Oh my, are you alright? Not hurt, are you?” The Professor asked. Al shook his head rapidly, not taking his eyes off the professor for a second, and especially not his hands. The Professor no doubt noticed it too, as he stepped backwards to give Al more room. “What happened?”

“I-I kicked it. And it broke.” Al said, cursing himself for such a stupid response. He clenched his own fists in frustration. “I didn't mean to.”

“Of course not. Are you hurt at all? It sounded quite nasty.” The Professor asked again, Al shaking his head once more, this time less frantically.

“Aren't you mad?” Al asked quietly. “I broke Katrielle's bed.”

“I'm a little shocked, and worried about you of course, but this is easily fixable, Al. I just want to make sure you're alright.”

It didn't make sense, the Professor should be fuming, but he wasn't even raising his voice! Just that same, calm tone he always used. “But... but I broke it.” He repeated, as if the Professor hadn't realised.

“It's fine, I can get it sorted out before bedtime tonight, Al. You said it yourself, it was an accident.”

“I was angry at Flora.” Al said, the words tumbling out too fast. “So I kicked it and it broke.”

“Thank you for admitting that, if you want some time alone to calm down you can go into my bedroom, I'll fix this quickly.” The Professor offered. “I'm going to get my toolbox now, do you need anything?”

“No.” Al said aloud, although inside he was screaming with thousands of questions.

///////////////////////////

Al and Humble had disappeared by the time the Professor returned, screwdriver in hand. Getting the leg fixed or replaced wouldn't happen quickly, so it made more sense to just remove the other 3 legs and let the bed lay on the floor. Flora joined him not long after.

“What happened?” She asked, picking up the splinters from the broken leg.

“Al kicked it, nothing too major.” The Professor answered. Al might not have seen it, not being used to seeing the Professor's subtle changes in mood, but Flora could tell he was silently fuming about something.

“What's wrong, Professor? You're not mad at Al, are you?” She asked. “It wasn't his fault.”

“I know Flora, I'm not mad at him.” The Professor assured her, his voice getting quiet so that Al couldn't hear “It's the way he reacted when I entered the room. He was terrified, Flora. He thought I was going to hurt him.”

“What? Are you sure? You would never do that!” She whispered back.

“I wouldn't dare consider it. But he didn't know that. Someone's taught him to expect to be hit when he makes a mistake, so when I entered the room, he cowered from me.” The Professor gently put the screwdriver down, trying to steady his breathing. “He wouldn't stop staring at my hands, trying to be ready for anything that came.”

They sat in silence for a long while, Flora silently thinking over everything the Professor had said. “We can't let him go back to where he came from, Professor. We just can't.”

“...I know, Flora. I know.” The Professor answered sadly, picking up the screwdriver again. “I'll make sure to let the police know the first chance I get without Al being there. This can't continue.”

It didn't take long to remove the three remaining legs, as well as the remnants of the broken 4th leg. Flora went to have a quick shower afterwards, her mind still buzzing with what the Professor had told her, while the Professor went looking for Al. He hadn't taken the Professor up on his offer, and the Professor had a sinking feeling he might have left the house altogether. But as he neared the living room door, he heard Al's voice from inside.

“You don't know how lucky you are.” The voice came quietly. The Professor stopped and listened in. “Look at what you've got. This house, these toys, all that food. Every night, and they expect nothing of you. You're just a baby. You're gonna grow up thinking this is normal.” Al sounded somewhere between mad and sad, ad it was clear he was talking to Katrielle. “But it's not. It's not normal. How is any of this right?” He asked, the frustration creeping back into his voice. The Professor considered entering the room just to make sure Al didn't take it out on Katrielle, but stopped as soon as Al continued. “I'd give up everything for just one piece of it, Kat. It's not fair.” His voice was choked up with tears. “Not all of it, and not even this strong.” Al swallowed back more tears. “Just one person to look at me the way the Professor looks at you, you know?”

There was silence for a long while, the Professor having to choke back his own tears, knowing fine well that Flora was right. Al couldn't go back, and he wouldn't. He was staying here.

“How did I get so jealous of a two year old girl, anyway?” Al asked, the same mocking tone to his voice, although it seemed to be aimed more at himself this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another not-official puzzle, but see if you can figure out who Al's teddy bear is named after. If you manage to get it without googling it, it's worth 90 picarats, otherwise you earn 60. I'm not entirely sure how obscure it is, so I'll give a hint at the end of each chapter, with the answer finally revealed at the end. Hint 1: The Professor and Flora are thinking along the right tracks, but don't be too close minded about it.
> 
> Poor Al. At least the Professor is dead set on having him as a son now. We all knew it was going to happen. It also seems that in all the previous chapters, he wasn't actually avoiding Katrielle because he hates little kids, since he's sought her out here, he's just super jealous of her.
> 
> My parents always told me how objects are just things that can always be replaced hence people being more important, since I was a somewhat clumsy child who could easily drop glasses and mugs all over the place and always cried about it. I think my brother also once did genuinely break the leg on a bed, but it might have been a close friend. Someone I know had their bed put on the floor after they broke one of its legs, anyway.


	11. There's always room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al's seemed to have calmed down from his radge, and instead learns how to spend a night in good company.

When the Professor finally re-entered the living room, it was to the sight of Al sat on the carpet, surrounded by most of Katrielle's toys, as Kat demanded that he play with her. Al caught the the Professor's eye and gave a good natured shrug, clearly playing along regardless of his actual interest. Kat had all the confidence of a cricket team on a winning streak, and certainly didn't think twice about handing Al toys to play out certain roles. From what he could gather, they were playing some fantasy court style game with princesses and knights.

“So, Sir Beanie is travelling from overseas to meet with Sir Blue and Princess Bongo, right?” Al asked.

“Uh huh! They're gonna fight!” Katrielle said.

“Like a dog fight?” Al asked.

“No. Sword fight, like daddy.” Kat insisted. “Princess Bongo wins.”

“Alright.” Al replied.

The Professor helped Flora with tea, often popping his head back around the corner to check on the two. As Al seemed to settle and start to enjoy the game, he started playing around himself, as the story took bizarre turns as the two children tried to make the story they were playing out take very different directions. Each time the Professor stuck his head around the corner the genre had shifted yet again, with Al and Kat looking more and more into it as the game went on.

What started out as high fantasy took a strange turn through sci-fi once aliens landed in the castle, then through fantasy horror when Katrielle added vampires to the mix. Al countered by bringing in zombies, which quickly turned the story into a medical drama as Sir Blue worked to find the cure to save the life of dear Sir Beanie. Humble sat in Al's lap, although he wasn't ever involved in the games himself.

“What's happening now?” Flora asked as the Professor returned with a smile on his face.

“Princess Matilda just infected Lord Poopy, and the police have finally been called in to put a stop to it.” The Professor reported, Flora giggling.

“Do you think it'll work?” Flora asked.

“Not a chance, the vampires are planning a counter attack.” The Professor said, finally breaking out into a chuckle.

When tea was finally finished Kat and Al had to be pulled away from their great adventure, the toys remaining on the floor. Kat tried to explain what had happened around mouthfuls of food, having t be reminded often not to talk with her mouth full, while Al remained quiet. He didn't speak until all the food was gone.

“Thanks for the food, Flora.” He said, still avoiding her eyes as if too embarrassed to look at her properly.

“I'm glad you liked it. Would you like some more?” Flora offered.

“No, I'm full.” Al said, then adding. “Um, thanks.”

Flora gave him a big smile that the Professor wasn't sure Al had actually seen, but he was pleased to see Al was at least trying to make an effort. Even if Al was still trying to avoid looking at him.

“Would you two like to go back to your game, or should we continue with the puzzle from last night?” The Professor asked. Kat stared at Al for an answer.

“The puzzle, I suppose.” Al said with a shrug.

“Very well.” The table was quickly cleared away and the rest of the puzzle brought back out. Kat and Flora started grouping colours together, careful not to pick up any of the pieces Al had already handled, while the Professor sat next to Al, trying to figure out the boy's technique. Al eventually caught on to the Professor watching.

“Oh, don't pay me any mind, Al. I'm just curious as to how you're going about doing it.” The Professor asked. Al put the piece he was holding down, crossed his arms for a moment while considering it, then grabbed the lid.

“It's a detailed puzzle, all the pieces look really distinct.” Al remarked. “So I'm just putting them into the right place. Once you start putting the other pieces in, it'll be clearer.”

“My, that's certainly a difficult technique. But I suppose, if you wanted an easy puzzle, you would have chosen one.” The Professor recalled. Al seemed to fidget in his seat.

“...Sorry.” He finally said.

“There's nothing to be sorry about. Would you mind if I have a go at your technique?”

Al looked at him quizzically, but eventually gave a small half smile, handing the lid to the Professor. “Sure.”

The Professor got to work, carefully handling each piece and trying to determine where in the puzzle it would go, occasionally pointed in the correct direction by Al. Al seemed to enjoy giving the instructions at least.

“It doesn't work well on puzzles with vast amount of one colour, of course.” Al explained. “But it's my way of going about jigsaws.”

“Oh? How would you approach a milk puzzle then?” The Professor asked, Al looking at him quizzically. “It's a puzzle where all the pieces are solid white. They're remarkably difficult to complete.”

“I don't know, I've never tried one.” Al answered.

“Well then, I'll keep my eyes open for one next time I'm in town.” The Professor said.

It wasn't long before Al and Kat were yawning, no doubt exhausted after a long day, and bed soon called. “Your bed is sorted now Al, don't fret.” The Professor said as he carried a sleeping Katrielle upstairs.

“I am sorry, Professor.” Al insisted.

“I know Al, and it's already forgiven. You have nothing to fear here, I promise.” The Professor said, shifting Katrielle into one arm to pat Al on the back. Al didn't respond, but walked back into his bedroom, while the Professor quietly returned to his own, settling Kat down on one side of his bed, settling down into the other. All the revelations of the day kept him awake much longer than he'd hoped, his head still swimming with worry for Al.

Meanwhile, Al lay in Katrielle's bed, now much lower on the floor than it had been the night before, trying to solve the puzzle of the Professor. Of why he was so nice, so kind to Al, when he had seemingly no reason to be. And his thoughts kept swimming back to the boy before him, Luke, who the Professor missed so dearly.

Would Al be missed like that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Al needs a hug, if only he'd accept one at this time.
> 
> When trying to name Kat's toys I tried to take inspiration from my own niece. She's at the age where all the toys have the same name though so I've not got the best source.
> 
> Hint 2 for the bear name puzzle: Humble is related to a very infamous British serial killer, however, Humble himself was not a serial killer.


	12. Case Closed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally nearing the end of the case, but Al doesn't seem best pleased

Once they'd finally drifted off to sleep it was difficult to wake back up again, not even Katrielle trying to pester the Professor awake nor the phone ringing managed it. Flora happily sorted out them both, making sure Kat was fed and dressed and entertained while writing a careful note of the message on the phone.

When the Professor finally woke up a couple hours later than his usual time, there was half-burnt breakfast and tea waiting for him, as well as Flora's message.

“Inspector Chelmey called, they've apparently found the next person.” Flora said reading from a scrap of paper. “There's a couple of 40 year old men on that street, and they're all ready to try and catch the killer. Chelmey asked that you call him back to discuss if you want to help out.”

“Thank you Flora, I'll do so after breakfast.” The Professor said, taking a sip of his tea. It had gone cold.

“You're not going to stay away, are you?” Flora asked.

“Well, I can't just leave the case now, can I? I would prefer to be somewhere nearby so as to hear the news quickly as to whether or not this menace is caught.” The Professor answered with his usual, gentlemanly air of mischief.

“Can I come too? Waiting for you to get home here is lonely, even with Katrielle around.” Flora asked.

“So long as you understand the danger, my dear. This is a serial killer we're talking about.”

“Al will want to go too, won't he?”

“I imagine so. If I know him half as well as I think I do, he'll want to see this case through to the end.” The Professor said, smiling into his cup of tea. “A bit like myself.”

Al took another hour to finally get downstairs, still mumbling as if half asleep. When the Professor explained what the plan was for the evening, he livened up a bit, but soon fell as well.

“Whatever is the matter, Al?” The Professor asked.

“Nothing, it's fine.” Al quickly left the table, heading over to where Katrielle was rolling around on the floor, playing with her toys. “Hey Kat, can I play again?”

“Al!” Kat greeted him, grabbing his arm in a hug that he flinched away from, but didn't push her off. “Let's play!”

“Yeah, let's play Kat.” He agreed.

They played again for hours, only stopping for lunch, with the same ferocity as before. The Professor took the opportunity to go back over his papers, planning his lectures for when he was next in, while Flora sat and did her sewing, often glancing at Humble still sat next to Al, clearly well loved and well worn, but didn't say anything. Yet still Al had an air of unease around him all day, that only seemed to elevate when they all left in the early evening, Kat staying under the watchful eyes of Rosa.

Al took the front passenger seat while Flora sat in the back as they drove to a couple of streets over from the target street. Al had barely talked to the Professor all day.

“Is something the matter, Al? You've been awfully quiet. It's not like you.” Flora asked, leaning over the central rest to look at Al better. Al turned away.

“Yeah, I'm fine. What does it matter to you anyway?” He asked, the same harsh tone to his voice from before.”

“It's alright to be nervous, Al. But the police will catch the killer, don't worry.” Flora tried to reassure him.

“I'm not nervous, and I'm not worried. Just leave me alone, alright?” Al snapped, leaning his head against the window. Nothing much could be seen to be happening from the car yet.

“Al, I was thinking.” The Professor started, Al slightly lifting his head to show he was listening. “It's been very enjoyable to have you on this case with me, we couldn't possibly have caught the killer this quick without your help.”

“Sounds about right.” Al agreed, smirking. “You're not too boring yourself.”

“Thank you. Well, I was thinking, maybe we should do this again sometime.” The Professor offered. “I'm occasionally called to various mysteries across the country, it might be nice to have another set of eyes to help us find our way through them.”

“You, you mean it?” Al asked.

“Of course! Flora agrees, it's been very nice to have you around.” The Professor smiled at Al, Flora nodding her agreement.

“No, it hasn't. Don't pretend it has.” Al said. “But, if you really mean it, that I can join up with you again-”

“And I do.”

“-Then yeah. Let's do it again sometime.” Al agreed, brightening up for the first time today. “I quite enjoyed having you around as well.”

“Then you have my promise, Al.”

“And a true gentleman never breaks his promise.” Flora added with a grin. “Or, at least, very rarely.”

Al straightened up some, clearly feeling happier now that he wasn't going to be thrown away in an hours time. “This isn't the first one I solved before the police, y'know. But it's the first one where I got to tell the police the right answer, even indirectly.”

“You'll have to tell us about the others ones tonight, Al.” Flora said. “Were any of them as exciting as this?”

“Just you wait and hear, my dear Flora.” Al said, the last three words tumbling out in a chuckle.

The Professor couldn't help but smile to himself. He hadn't been certain that Al would accept his offer, he had almost been dreading a rejection even, but it seemed to go well. And Al hadn't even questioned that Flora was assuming he'd be at their home again. But time had ticked forward and the Inspector was waiting for him.

“You two wait in here, I'll lock the door. Do not exit this car under any circumstances.” The Professor instructed. “You should be far enough away that you won't be in danger, but it's better safe than sorry. Flora, you're in charge, alright?”

“You be careful too, Professor.” Flora replied, looking anxious as the Professor stepped out and locked the car behind him. The locks could be opened from inside, of course, but this would keep out any unwanted guests. Al watched him leave unblinkingly, but made no effort to follow.

Instead the Professor made his way quickly through the streets to the agreed meeting location with Chelmey, who stood hidden behind a fence with Barton by his side. They shared a curt greeting, before lulling back into silence to watch the street.

/////////////////////////////////

Al fidgetted in his seat. He hated sitting still, especially at a time like this. But that promise of more adventure was just too good to spoil it now with misbehaviour. Flora had tried to hold a conversation with him but between her nerves and his restlessness it hadn't really worked out.

He'd brought some of his notes from other cases to read over, some newspaper clippings and rough scribbles he'd made. But his mind kept drifting back to the case at hand. Something felt incomplete. A final piece was out of place and the whole image looked wrong. But what was it?

Al pulled out the notes he'd made on the Riddle Killings, reading over his notes. The main questions of the case “Who will be the next victim?” and “What's the pattern of the locations?” had been answered, but one final question remained. “Why leave behind the puzzles?”

“Why indeed...” He mumbled under his breath. It didn't matter really, he supposed. The case was practically solves, even if it was through brute force of cornering the culprit rather than naming and shaming. Was that final question the answer of the culprit's identity? Or was it just a plea to be seen as smart, as he'd previously theorised?

“What is it?” Flora asked. Al glared at his papers a little before telling Flora the final question. She mused it silently. “It's a strange one. I mean, surely the culprit knows that if you put a puzzle down, the Professor will solve it.”

“Bit predictable, isn't he?” Al teased.

“That's just common sense. All of London knows that.” Flora replied. Al's brows furrowed in thought.

“All of London?” He asked, pulling out his list of victims again, checking over the ages and patterns again.

“He's very famous, you know.” Flora added. She didn't know what Al was thinking, but it was clear the gears were whirring.

“Flora, how old is the Professor?” Al asked, his tone suddenly breathless

/////////////////////////////////

A signal over the fence had Chelmey rushing into one of the houses across the street, leaving the Professor and Barton stood silently in the dark. Barton played with his coat a little, the sound of his ruffled fabric almost masking the sound of approaching footsteps, the Professor only just jumping aside in time to miss a sharp blade to the back. The blade rushed forward again, the man behind it wild with his movements, while the Professor tried to block and push the knife away, before finally grabbing the hilt. Barton stood still as a statue, terrified.

They grappled with the knife, trying to pull it out of the other's grip, the man trying to get it closer to the Professor while the Professor tried to avoid getting hurt, until a sound distracted them both.

Flora, stood in the middle of the street, screaming. But she wasn't facing them, but down to where the police had gathered, now attracted by the scream and rushing to the aid.

The man let go of the knife with one last misaimed jab, clearly planning to run away, but was caught off guard when a book hit him squarely in the back, giving the Professor enough time to kick the knife away and get a good hold of the man. Al was stood just behind the man, holding a textbook on archaeology.

“Why do you even have this in your car, anyway? Bit of light reading?” Al asked, a wicked grin across his face.

“I told you to wait.” The Professor spluttered out.

“You needed our help.” Al answered with a proud shrug.

A team of three police officers quickly pulled the man from the Professor's grip, collecting the knife and cuffing the Riddle Killer, who barely seemed to react. Al watched him leave with an almost bored look.

“Anti-climatic.” He said. “I was hoping he'd be more interesting for all the trouble he put us through.” He shrugged again, turning to the Professor with a big grin. “We did it though, Professor. We helped catch him!”

“Indeed we did.” The Professor agreed as Flora rushed back over to hug his arm. “Well done, both of you.”

“Quite right, Layton.” Came the approaching, gruff voice of Inspector Chelmey, accompanied as ever by Barton. Al almost seemed to freeze at the sight of him. “A job well done. And to you too, Alfendi Baxter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not happy with how I originally wrote this chapter, so I rewrote it to finish some loose ends and give it the original plan for this chapter. I hope nobody minds!
> 
> Hint 3 for Humble: He's not named for a killer at all. In fact, he was named for an imposter, who sent letters and most importantly a recording to the police claiming to be the infamous serial killer. Since the games are theorised to be set in the 1960s, this name is also an anachronism.


	13. Alfendi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chelmey appears to have some history with Al, but the Professor isn't going to let Al go that easily.

Al staggered backwards as if he'd been shot, having to lean on the Professor for support. Chelmey just got closer instead.

“You have a lot of people very worried, you know. You've been missing a while.” Chelmey said. His tone sounded too firm for the words that were trying to give comfort.

“They're not worried about me, and I'm not missing, I left. By choice.” Al answered, still shaking.

“You're not old enough to leave yet, Alfendi. Like it or not, I have to take you back.” Chelmey finished, indicating that Al should come with him.

“Inspector, please, a quick word?” The Professor asked, desperate to not let Al go. He placed a hand on Al's shoulder for comfort.

“Not a peep from you, Layton. Do you know how much trouble you could be in if I couldn't personally vouch that you're just trying to do good, however misguided that may be?” Chelmey asked.

“I don't think I follow. I'm just trying to help Al.” The Professor insisted.

“Looked at a certain way, you could've been done with a kidnapping charge. That's certainly not something you want on your record now, is it?” Chelmey asked.

“Be that as it may, I won't let you take Al back, Inspector. I really do need a word with you.” The Professor urged again.

“Stop.” Al said, his voice stern. “Don't get in trouble over me, Professor. I'm not worth it.” Al shrugged off the Professor's hand, walking over to the Inspector, still shaking.

“Al, no, we can discuss this...” The Professor insisted, trying to hide his face with his hat. Flora was dumbstruck, trying to fight back her own tears.

“There's a good lad.” Chelmey praised, although Al didn't react, just kept staring at the floor. “Barton, take him home, will you?”

“Um, right away, sir!” Barton saluted, leading Al to one of the police cars and letting him inside. Al didn't look back as they drove away. Still he was shaking.

The Professor, Chelmey and Flora stood in silence for a long while, Flora still gripping the Professor's arm and trying to stifle her tears. Chelmey eventually cleared his throat.

“Well Layton, you wanted a word in private, yes? So do I.” Chelmey scratched his chin. “My office would be a good destination, but as you just saw, Barton took our car.”

The Professor took another minute to respond. “Very well Inspector. I'll give you a lift back in mine. But we will have a talk.”

///////////////////////

The atmosphere in the police car was beyond awkward. It wasn't the first time Alfendi had been in one, and he knew it wasn't going to be his last. Barton kept trying to strike up a conversation, but Alfendi refused to humour him, sat staring out the back window with his arms crossed. Houses and street lights passed by, sometimes in a flash, other times at a slow pace, as they made it through the late evening London traffic.

“Did you enjoy your time with the Professor then?” Barton asked, trying again to get a word from Alfendi. “He's always seemed very nice.”

Alfendi still didn't respond, still pouting in the back seats. He'd loved his time there, he'd give up anything for an extra day with the Professor, but that seemed unlikely now. Barton still refused to give up.

“How is his daughter anyway? I've never met her, but he always has stories to tell me when I ask about her.”

Katrielle was good fun for a two year old. She liked to be in charge of the games, but easily adapted around any elements Alfendi had decided to throw in. Vampires made any story better. He had to stifle a smile at the memory of her, all confidence and zero fear as she shot around the room.

“Flora's looking much more like a lady nowadays too, so sophisticated. I bet her father would be pleased to see her so happy.”

He hadn't been nice to Flora, he remembered with a sinking feeling. She was so annoying but... she didn't mean to be. She just always wanted to help him, and he'd been so cruel back, but everytime she tried again. When he'd asked for her help to save the Professor in the car, she'd done so without a moment's thought. She was so much more than he gave her credit for-

“Don't take me back.” Alfendi begged, finally rubbing his had along his eyes. “Please.”

“But, it's your home, Alfendi. And the inspector said-”

“Home? No-one even liked me there. And I hate it. Why do you think I keep running away?”

“I'm sure it can't be that bad.”

“It is. You don't understand.” Alfendi groaned. “You're so stupid, they don't want me there, I don't want to be there. That's not a home.” Alfendi insisted. He'd seen what a home really looked like. Barton was quiet for a moment.

“You'll be able to leave forever when you're old enough.”

“6 more years? I can't wait that long. I'd rather kill you now and go to prison than spend another day there.” Alfendi threatened.

“Whatever would the Professor think of that, then?” Barton asked, his tone giving out his worry that Alfendi would carry out the threat.

“Who cares? The Inspector is going to tell him everything, isn't he? I'll never see him again.” Al spat. “The one person in the entire world who's different, and you're gonna convince him to be as stupid as the lot of you. I hate it.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Barton asked, sitting up in his seat to stare at Alfendi through the mirror.

“The way everyone else looks at me, talks to me, talks about me. They're all the same. But the Professor, he...” The last piece of the puzzle Alfendi had been trying to solve, why he was so interested in the great Professor Herschel Layton, why he didn't want to, couldn't go back. Alfendi's voice quietened. “Everyone else thinks I'm a bad kid on my best behaviour, but the Professor treats me like a good kid who does bad things. Like I'm worth the effort.”

Barton didn't respond for a long while in which time Alfendi taunted again. “Why couldn't you be this quiet before?”

“You could always prove all of us wrong. Like you do at the crime scenes sometimes, pointing out what we've missed. I'm sure the Professor would love to be proved right just as much as you love being proved right.”

“What's the point? It'll get me nowhere.” Al said huffily, staring back out at the window. They weren't far now, he realised with a twist in his stomach.

“You don't know that.” Barton insisted. “If you just try a little harder, maybe-”

“Maybe I can run away and never get brought back.” Alfendi finished, refusing to listen to anything else Barton had to say.

////////////////////////////

The drive to Scotland Yard was awfully quiet, no-one tried to make conversation at all. The textbook Al had grabbed was replaced in the glove compartment, and Flora glared daggers at Chelmey all the way there. The traffic was unbearably slow too, dragging out the car journey much further than was needed.

Once they'd finally reached the Yard, still slightly abuzz with activity despite the darkening sky, Chelmey offered them both a cup of tea, leaving Flora sat outside his office while the Professor was allowed in.

“I'm sure you've got a lot to say, Layton, and that you're just dying to tell me everything about it, so go ahead. I'll let you say your piece, and then I'll say mine.” Chelmey said, pointing the Professor to the sofa's for a seat.

“Someone's hitting that child.” The Professor stated, but Chelmey didn't react. “He broke his bed and when I came in to check on him, he cowered in the corner expecting me to hit him. No person in their right mind would do such a horrific thing.”

“Is that all?” Chelmey asked.

“He's growing up without love. Wherever it is that he lives, he's not getting treated properly. He was jealous of how much I loved Katrielle, and he didn't even know what he was jealous of. That is no way to raise a child.”

“Indeed.”

“Inspector, I don't think you're taking this seriously enough.” The Professor said, an edge of caution in his voice. This callous response to such news was starting to grate on him. Al deserved so much better than what he was getting.

“No, no, I am listening Layton. I know exactly what you mean but, I'm afraid my hands are tied.” Chelmey finally answered with a sigh.

“How on earth are your hands tied in regards to neglect?” The Professor asked. Chelmey reached over and grabbed a file from his desk.

“I got this ready just before we set off. Thought it might come in handy if my hunch was correct, and it was.” Chelmey said, handing it to the Professor. The Professor looked at it quizzically. “It's about Alfendi, it's worth a read.”

He opened it and skimmed most of the contents, not wanting to keep the Inspector waiting for a detailed read. Repeatedly, words like 'violent tendencies', 'apathetic', 'dangerous' jumped out at him. There wasn't a single good description of Alfendi in the entire file, and even phrases that should be compliments were twisted against him, like 'cunning', 'a great intellect aimed against others'.

“This seems very... negative.” The Professor said, trying to think of a proper way to describe it. Al wasn't the best behaved child he'd ever met, but he'd never gotten the impression this file was trying to set. That he was evil, and dangerous. But most of all, that he was a ticking time bomb of villainy.

“He's been in the care of the state since he was 6, and I dare say he's only gotten worse over the years.” Chelmey recalled. “He's been bounced from home to home, orphanage to orphanage, nowhere was quite prepared for his nature. He's currently at the Brutus Orphanage, if you've heard of it.”

“...I have.” The Professor confirmed. There's been an article in the newspaper about it when it opened, an off-shoot of a local juvenile detention centre that took in wild, unruly children who were too much of a threat to society to be anywhere else. Alfendi couldn't be there, surely...

“Then you know why my hands are tied. Even if the children are being punished as you've said, the public opinion is that they don't deserve anything better. I'll look into it, of course, but I'm not sure how far I'll get.” Chelmey explained.

“Then why send him back?” The Professor asked. “I'm more than willing to have him in my home-”

“Didn't you read the file, Layton? He's dangerous, you're lucky he didn't hurt you, Flora or your daughter.” Chelmey interupted.

“Not from what I saw, Inspector. He's more restless, I think. A great intellect and nothing to do with it.”

“Oh he's found what to do with it. Running away, contaminating crime scenes, manipulating his peers at the orphanage. Just because you caught him in a more helpful mood does not mean he's always that way.”

“Al's a good person, he just needs some understanding. And I made a promise to him.”

“Be that as it may, he has to go back. You'd only put others at risk with him out.”

“No.” The Professor said firmly, trying to reign in his temper. “No-one is inherently evil, Inspector. Al is a fine boy, he just needs guidance and understanding for once in his life. I know I can-”

“HE'S NOT LUKE!” Chelmey shouted, causing the Professor to jump backwards. Chelmey, cleared his throat, rubbing at his mouth. “He's not Luke, he'll never be a gentleman. And you trying to replace Luke with him is just going to cause all of you pain in the long run.”

“I know he's not Luke.” The Professor said slowly. “I know. He's Al. He says things he doesn't mean to, he's got a temper and he's not one to hold punches. But he deserves so much better than what life has dealt him.”

Chelmey glared at the Professor for a long while before sighing. “Take his file, read it over. I know you're stubborn as a mule, and I won't be able to stop you whatever you decide, but at least be informed.”

“Very well, Inspector. We'll meet again.” The Professor said, folding up the file. That remark still stung deep, the thought of trying to replace Luke, and he rushed out to collect Flora before heading back home again.

Chelmey cleared away the used mugs after the Professor had left, rubbing at his eyes in defeat. He could never stop Layton; the man had been willing to risk arrest to stop a young boy getting taken back to a horrible home. He sat behind his desk, pondering what Layton had said. And he knew, if nothing else, Al really did deserve that second chance, and no-one would offer it quite so warmly, so genuinely or as unconditionally, as Layton.

////////////////////////

Barton walked Al to the front door, where the headmaster, Peterson, was already waiting for him. Alfendi refused to meet his eyes, while Peterson just stared at him.

“You need a haircut.” Peterson said at last. “Get in.”

Alfendi trudged through the front door, Barton waving a last goodbye before the door was shut in his face. The entrance hall was as gloomy as he remembered.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me?” Peterson growled. Alfendi just tutted, uninterested.

“Did you know I've saved at least two people's lives in the past week? Worth whatever trouble I caused, I think.” Alfendi retorted, only to be grabbed by Peterson.

“Don't get smart with me. You shouldn't have been out there in the first place.”

“Yeah, but I was. It's not like you managed to stop me.” Alfendi taunted, already anticipating the slap across his arm, flinching away.

“We'll stop you eventually. You can only escape so many times before we Baxter-proof this whole place.”

“And one day I'll leave, and you'll never get me back. And I'll only return to drag your dead body out myself, in front of the cheering children here.” Alfendi threatened, trying to size Peterson up quite unsuccessfully. “It almost happened tonight.”

“You think Layton really wanted you? What would a gentleman like that want with a no-good, criminal in the making winnet like yourself?” Peterson asked. Alfendi just turned away, he hadn't figured out the answer to that one himself yet, but his response only made Peterson laugh. Still holding Alfendi's wrist in a death grip, he pulled the boy along the corridors. “Back to your usual cell then, Alfendi.”

“Can't wait.” Alfendi jeered, thankful that Peterson didn't see him shudder.

//////////////////////////////

Flora had called ahead to let Rosa know they were coming home soon. The Professor had explained everything to Flora on the way back, the file still sat in his lap. He'd read it all, cover to cover, that evening, although he was already fairly certain on his decision. He'd have to make quite a few phone calls in the morning.

When they finally arrived home it was late enough to be past Katrielle's bedtime, although Rosa admitted she hadn't managed to get the girl settled. Instead Katrielle did her usual greeting of running into the Hallway on her toddling legs, arms out in a hug, ready to scream her greetings, but this time, she stopped dead in the doorway.

“Al?” She asked, walking up to her dad. “Where's Al?”

“He's gone home, Katrielle.” Flora explained. Katrielle didn't seem to like this answer.

“Where's Al?” She asked again, tears springing to her eyes. The Professor hadn't expected her to get so attached so quickly. Instead, he picked her up and held her close, not knowing who needed the comfort more.

/////////////////

In Katrielle's old bedroom, still sat on the bed where he'd been left, Humble waited patiently for Al to return once more, his battered old eye still staring out the dark window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear in mind that Brutus Orphanage is meant to be a characiture and stereotypical bad place for bad kids, it is not based on any real orphanage, it's just a really bad made up place.
> 
> Originally I'd planned for Grosky to drive Alfendi back to the orphanage, but I thought it'd make an interesting conversation between Alfendi and his future boss.
> 
> Is winnet a word anywhere else? Google says it’s a regional british word. One of my dads teachers used to call the students ‘winnets’, but it’s actual meaning is “a small piece of poo stuck to the backside of a mammal”. Yes, Peterson calls Alfendi ‘a little shit’.
> 
> And the final, super hint for Humble's name: While I chose Humble for comparisons to Alfendi that I'll explain next chapter, the real life Humble was involved in what was probably the most infamous and horrific serial killings in the North East of England. In fact, if you accept that Lucy Baker is from Yorkshire (as I do), then that infamous serial killings happened where she lived.


	14. Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professor goes to visit Alfendi with a very important question

It was late afternoon the next day, but the halls were dreary and miserable looking. The children stared at them as they passed, but didn't think to speak. The Professor was almost certain that the blame would land on Peterson.

When he'd called this morning asking if he could visit Alfendi, a harsh laugh had rung down the phone before he was hung up on. When he'd called again after giving the man some time to calm down, he was told to come to the office in person to discuss it. It had taken every inch of the Professor's patience to play along as nicely as possible with Peterson in order to get this visit. He had no doubt that Alfendi hadn't been able to do so for a long time.

“I don't know why you'd want to visit any of them, to be honest.” Peterson had said back in the office. “They're all bad eggs, I wouldn't want to befriend any of them. Especially not Baxter.”

“But you work with them, surely you must have at least some interest in helping these children.” the Professor had asked.

“Does a farm vet necessarily want to own a dairy herd, Professor Layton?” Peterson had asked back. The Professor had to bite his tongue to stop from asking why Peterson thought it polite to compare children to cattle.

But he'd managed for long enough to win the man's favour, and was now walking through the halls of Brutus Orphanage with increasing pity for Alfendi. This place was unbelievably drab and monotone, with little in the way of entertainment. Even the bookshelves were almost bare.

They'd passed by what Peterson had referred to as 'Alfendi's actual room', which he shared with three other boys, all in bunk beds. The Professor had always imagined Al's room to be an absolute tip; papers scattered everywhere of his notes on cases, newspapers for his cases, half read books left lying around, but clearly he'd thought too much. The bedroom's were almost bare, and if he hadn't been told it was Al's, he couldn't have told the difference between it and any other room in the place.

Not that Al was here. Peterson had said that Alfendi was being punished for escaping; 'being on the run' as he'd put it. They had a solitary block for such punishments, but the Professor couldn't think of how those cells could be any worse than the rest of them.

They eventually reached it though. Peterson slid back a peep hole and shouted through: “You've got a visitor. Best behaviour now.” before unlocking the door and pushing it open for the Professor to enter through. The door was locked behind him.

The room was cold, and small, and painfully empty. At least the others had some sign of life, a book or two, ratty teddy bears, toys hidden where they could be, but this room was empty, save for a small, uncomfortable looking bed against the far wall. Alfendi was curled up on top of it, staring at the far wall.

“Hello Al.” The Professor greeted. “Do you mind if I come sit with you?”

No response came. If Alfendi didn't shift further towards the wall, the Professor wouldn't have been sure he was awake at all.

“That's fine, I don't mind standing. How have you been? It's been quite quiet without you at home.” The Professor said, but still Alfendi didn't respond. “Katrielle misses you a lot too, and so did this little chap.”

The Professor pulled Humble out from his coat. “Would you like Humble back?”

Alfendi held his hand out for the bear, the Professor placing him gently in his grasp. Alfendi quickly snatched Humble away, holding the bear tight.

The Professor stood in silence for a while, trying to think of what to say. “You were right, you know. I never could solve the puzzle on what your real name was. I don't think I've ever heard one quite like it. It suits you to a tee.”

Still Alfendi didn't respond. The Professor sighed.

“...He told you about me, didn't he?” Alfendi asked quietly. “Chelmey.”

“Yes. He did. Alfendi, there are many things in that file that make me quite concerned, but I assure you none of them are aimed at you, but for you. This behavioural record of yours is going to cause problems for you in the long run.”

Alfendi blew a loud raspberry at the Professor, who only sighed again.

“But I understand it might be difficult for you to see that. I know you are better than this, all you need is time, and understanding. And Alfendi, Flora was right, a gentleman should never break his promises. I want to help you.” The Professor explained, pausing long enough for Alfendi to process what he said.

“Alfendi, would you like to come live with me, permanently?”

Alfendi stopped breathing for a moment, finally lifting his head slightly and turning to look at the Professor, his face screwed up in confusion. “What?”

“I can't stand the thought of taking you away from here only to bring you back once more, so I can't just have you as an apprentice. Flora and Katrielle quite agree with my offer as well.”

“To live with you?”

“Yes, well. It would mean I would have to adopt you, of course. But I don't expect you to call me 'father' unless you want to. And while I will try to steer you in the direction of good behaviour and manners, I will never punish you with a raised voice or hand. Ever.”

Alfendi finally sat up, his face still filled with confusion. “And become Alfendi Layton? Why?”

“You'd never have to return here, and I always have food and a bed for you-”

“No, I got that.” Alfendi said. “Why me?”

“Because you are absolutely spectacular Alfendi, and the only thing I've learned from what everyone has said to me about you, is that there are very few people around you that can see it.”

Alfendi was still staring in disbelief, his eyes filling with tears, his shoulders finally catching up with the fact that he was crying. The Professor knelt before him while Alfendi tried to desperately wipe his tears away with the sleeves of his shirt.

“Don't know why I'm crying.” Al sniffed, avoiding the Professor's eyes and still rubbing his face. “I'm not sad. I'm so stupid.”

“No, Alfendi. You're not. And if you'll let me, I want to help you prove so too.” The Professor said, placing his hands on Alfendi's shoulders, glad that Alfendi didn't shrug them off. “Would you like some time to think about your answer?”

“No! I know already.” Alfendi said quickly, a smile spreading behind his tears. “Yes! I want to live with you. I've never wanted anything more!” Alfendi lunged forward to grab the Professor in a tight hug, and immediately received one back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue to do now, give it a proper happy ending, no tears at all. 
> 
> Alfendi wasn't exactly in a huff with the Professor in this chapter, he was more avoiding looking at the Professor out of being upset at what he'd lost. He's headstrong and confident, but Peterson's words can still cut deep, making Alfendi doubt why the Professor would want him around. He might have figured out why he was so interested in the Professor last chapter, but the Professor has to help him solve why the Professor is so interested in him.
> 
> Also the Professor visits him late afternoon because he spent the entire morning making phone calls along the lines of "how do I go about adopting this child and I won't take 'you shouldn't/can't' as an answer thank you very much". He mentioned he was planning to do so at the end of the last chapter.
> 
> The puzzle of Humble's name will be solved next chapter, I didn't know how many chapters would be written after the one where I posed the puzzle, sorry.


	15. Epilogue- Layton

Papers were passed across the desk with only occasional words and instructions, lots of pointing and scratching of pens. There may have been more than normal due to the strict nature of Brutus's, but it wasn't like any of them had a frame of reference for that.

The Professor was wordlessly filling out all the adoption forms, occasionally smiling at Alfendi and assuring him it wouldn't be much longer now, while Peterson sat across the desk filling out his half, often glaring at Alfendi as if his adoption was a personal affront to him. A lawyer sat between them, double checking every form and instructing them were to fill things out.

Alfendi was sat beside the Professor, feeling restless and fidgety. He'd tried to dress as nice as he could for the occasion, and had even tried to make his hair sit neatly, although it was still a flyaway mess. No matter how many times he insisted it was just like that, no-one seemed to believe him. He'd never been particularly good at sitting still and being quiet without anything to do, but he forced himself to remain calm for as long as it would take. Just a couple of hours of being good here would reward him with a family, and that was well worth the boredom.

Peterson's presence was unwanted but unfortunately necessary. No doubt the lawyer was there to make sure he didn't cause any trouble for the Professor.

“Just this last one to sign, then it's all official. Alfendi will legally be in your care, Professor Layton.” The lawyer explained, handing over the final sheet of paper. The Professor received it with thanks.

“Just one last check, Alfendi. Are you sure-” The Professor started to ask.

“If this is what I want? I'm as sure as your titfer is tall, Professor.” Alfendi assured him The Professor gave him a massive smile.

“As am I.” The Professor signed the last line, handing it back over.

“Very well, that's all done and dusted. Alfendi Layton is to go home with the Professor and is no longer in the care of Brutus Orphanage, and I can finally go home.” The Lawyer concluded, standing up and offering the Professor her hand to shake. “Good luck to the both of you.”

The Professor shook it, while Alfendi gave her a quick nod in thanks, as the two Laytons stood up from their respective seats to leave to.

“Good-bye Alfendi. That is, unless you end up across the road in a couple of years.” Peterson growled under his breath, as if trying to hide it from the Professor, 'across the road' being the juvenile detention centre. Alfendi was about to make a retort when he was cut off by the Professor.

“What a horrid thing to say to my son, Mr Peterson.” The Professor chastised, placing one protective hand on Alfendi's shoulder to hold him close. “I should rather hope you apologise for such an uncalled for remark.”

Alfendi was about to say how he didn't care when he flashed that small look of mischief in the Professor's eyes, and the slight squirm in Peterson's demeanour. It was beautiful to see, and there seemed to be no escape for Peterson that to submit to the horrifying ordeal of apologising to Alfendi.

“Very well.” He grumbled. “I'm sorry, Layton.”

Clearly he was trying to weasel out of it by using Alfendi's new surname, which Peterson could easily reason to himself that he was apologising to the Professor instead. The Professor clearly picked up on it too, but Alfendi stepped in.

“Don't worry, father. I'll happily be the bigger man and accept it.” He said, in a mocking posh tone. The Professor bit his lip but nodded anyway.

“Very well. Shall we take our leave, then?” He asked. Alfendi's grin spread across his entire face.

“Yeah. Let's go.”

////////////////

It was almost dinner time by the time the two got home, the smells of food tumbling out of the open kitchen window and making Al's stomach rumble. Oh he'd missed that.

The Professor let Alfendi have the honour of opening the door, taking the first step into living there properly, and loudly announcing that they'd returned. Flora's and Katrielle's footsteps thundered through the house towards them.

“Al! You're back!” Flora squealed, rushing over to him and stopping to offer him a hug, which he awkwardly turned into a hand shake instead. Unperturbed, Flora took it with a lot of vigour. “I missed you, you know.”

“Yeah yeah.” Alfendi waved her off, a smile creeping onto his face anyway. He'd missed her too, but he wasn't just going to _say_ that. Katrielle came not long after, not waiting for permission to hug her new older brother.

“Al! Cake!” She greeted him, pointing into the dining room.

“Katrielle! That was meant to be a surprise!” Flora scolded, but Katrielle didn't seem to care, taking tight hold of Alfendi's hand and pulling him into the dining room.

“Cake! Cake!” She chanted, Alfendi rolling his eyes but following her through anyway, not letting go off her hand.

/////////////////////

The night went on for a very long time; the cake was eaten in its entirety with more than enough help from Katrielle. The cake had been decorated by a big question mark, which Alfendi appreciated more than they'd all thought. The jigsaw puzzle was finally completed, and no-one thought to even check the time before they were all nodding off on the couch.

Flora took Katrielle to the bedroom they now shared, leaving Katrielle's old room, now Alfendi's room (and the smallest in the house, as Flora had teased) ready for Alfendi to use. The Professor had accompanied him there, assuring Alfendi that when they had the time, they'd make sure to get him his own clothes and toys so he didn't have to keep using Luke's old things. The bookshelves were mostly bare, save for a few murder mystery novels that the faculty had decided to gift Layton at the news he was adopting yet another child. The room was almost a completely blank slate for Alfendi to put his mark on however he wanted, and he was very thankful for it.

Except the bed covers, which were new and decorated by a diagram of constellations in the night sky. Once Alfendi had climbed into bed, he searched the cover to point out one star in particular.

“Polaris.” He said with a grin.

“I suppose so, if you like the scientific name. I prefer 'The North Star' myself.” The Professor replied, tucking Alfendi in. From Alfendi's expression it wasn't anything he'd experienced before, but one he looked forward to experiencing again. “Good night Alfendi.” The Professor said as he flicked the light off, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Good night, dad.” Alfendi replied through the door.

His dad had clearly stopped to savour the moment from the other side of the door, before heading to his own bedroom to sleep. Alfendi didn't stay awake for much longer, finally content in his own room, his own bed, surrounded by his own family.

And cuddled up to his own teddy bear, Humble, who was looking much smarter now with his fake eye, replacement arm and cuddly belly once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does take place more than a day after the previous one but I'm not sure how long. Al's been away from the Professor's home for more than one night anyway.
> 
> So, Humble. During the Yorkshire Ripper case, tapes and letters were sent into the police station claiming to be from the Yorkshire Ripper, which lead the case in the completely wrong direction for a time. This man, nicknamed Wearside Jack on account of his very noticable Mackem (precisely Castletown) accent, was called John Samuel Humble, and is who Alfendi's teddy bear is named after. I did consider naming the bear Sutcliffe after the Yorkshire Ripper himself, but that felt a little on the nose. As opposed to naming it after someone who claimed to have killed, lead a case astray for a while, and as a result this lead to the unfortunate deaths of more people. And I wonder, is there anyone in a Layton game that has a similar thing happen to them?
> 
> End of the fic, and how many picarates did you get? By my count the maximum is 390. If you got all 390 picarates give yourself a clap on the back.


End file.
